
( fcsJ|V4fL_ 

Book_!_fei_ 






i % 

A 

TOKE N 

FOR 

MOURNERS. 

OR, 

The advice of Christ to a distressed mother, 
bewailing the death of her dear and only 
son ; wherein the boundaries of sorrow 
are duly fixed, excesses restrained, the com- 
mon pleas answered, and divers rules for 
the support of god's afflicted ones ptf£* 

SCRIBED, 

* 

RATTLEBOROUGH VER. 
Published by William Fessendbst, 

1813. 



J^A^f 






THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY. 

"To his dearly beloved brothir and sister, Mr, /• C. 
and Mrs, E. C, the Author ivjshes grace, mercy, 
and peace, 

DEAR FRIENDS, 

THE double tie of nature and grace, beside ] 
the many endearing passages that for so many- 
years have linked and glewed our affections so 
intimately, cannot but beget a tender sympathy 
in me with you, under all your troubles, and 
make me say of every affliction which befals 
you, half's min«. I find it is with our affec- 
tions as with the strings of musical instruments 
exactly set at the same height, if one be touch- 
ed, the other trembles, though it be at some 
distance. 

Our affections are one, and so in a great meas- 
ure have been our afflictions also. You cannot 
forget that in the years lately past, the Almigh- 
ty visited my tabernacle with the rod, and in 
one year, cut off from it the root and the branch, 
the tender mother, and the only son. What 
the effects of those strokes, or rather of my own 
unmortified passions were, I have felt, and you 
and others have heard. Surely I was as a bul- 



lock unaccustomed to the yoke. Yea, I may 
say wish them, Lam. iii. 19, 20. « Remem- 
" ber mine affliction and my misery, the worm- 
" wood and the gall, my soul hath them still in 
" remembrance, and is humbled in me." 

I dare not say that ever I felt my heart dis- 
contentedly rising and swelling against God ; 
no, 1 could still justify him, when I most sensi- 
bly smarted by his hand : If he had plunged me 
into a sea of sorrow, yet I could say, in all that 
sea of sorrow, there is not a drop of injustice : 
but it was the over-heating, and over-acting of 
my fond and unmodified affections and passions 
that made so sad impressions upon my body, and 
cast me under those distempers which soon em- 
bittered ail my remaining comforts to me. 

It was my earnest desire, so soon as I had 
strength and opportunity fer so great a journey, 
to visit you, that so, if the Lord had pleased, I 
might both refresh, and be refreshed by you, 
after all my sad and disconsolate days. And 
you cannot imagine what content and pleasure 
I projected in that visit ; but it proved to us, 
as all other comforts of the same kind ordinarily 
do, more in expectation than in fruition : For 
how soon after our joyful meeting and embrac- 



es did the Lord overcast and darken our day, by 
sending death into your tabernacle, to take away 
the desire of your eyes with a stroke ! To crop 
off that sweet and only bud from which we 
promised ourselves so much comfort. But no 
more of that, I fear I am gone too far already* 
It is not my design to exasperate your troubles, 
but to heal them ; and for that purpose have I 
sent you these papers, which I hope may be of 
use to you and many others in your condition, 
since they are the after-fruits of my own troub- 
les ; things that I have not commended to you 
from another hand, but which I have, in some 
measure, proved and tasted in my o tm trials. 

But I will not hold you longer here, I have 
only a few things to desire for, and from you, 
and I have done. 

The things I desire, are, 

First, That you will not be too hasty to get 
off the yoke which God hath put upon your 
neck. Remember when your child was in the 
womb, neither of you desired it should be deliv- 
ered thence till God's appointed time was fully 
come ; and now that you travail again with 
sorrow for its death : O desire not to be deliver- 
ed from your sorrows one moment before God's 

A 



6 

time for your deliverance be fully come also. Let 
patience have its perfect work ; that comfort 
•which comes in God's way and season, will stick 
by you, and do you good indeed. 

Secondly, I desire, that though you and your 
afflictions had a sad meeting, yet you and they 
may have a comfortable parting. If they effect 
that upon your hearts which God sent them for, 
I doubi not but you will give them a fair testi- 
mony when they go off. 

If they obtain God's blessing upon them in 
their operation, surely they will have your bles ? 
sing too at their valediction. And what you 
entt ained with fear, you will dismiss with 
praise. How sweet is it to hear the afflicted 
soul say, when God is loosing his hands, i( It is 
good for me that I have been afflicted." 

Thirdly, I heartily wish that these searching 
afflictions may make the more satisfying discov- 
eries ; that you may now see more of the evil of 
sin, the vanity of the creature, and the fullness 
of Christ, than ever you yet saw. Afflictions 
are searchers, and put the soul upon searching 
and trying its ways, Lam. lii. 14. When our 
sin finds us out by affliction, happy are we, if, 
fry the light of affliction, we find out sin. Bles- 



sed is the man whom God chasteneth, and teacho 
eth out of his law, Psal. xciv. 12. There are 
unseen causes, oany times, of our troubles ; you 
have an advantage now to sift out the seeds, and 
principle from which they spring. 

Fourthly, I wish that all the love and delight 
you bestowed on your little one, may now be 
placed, to your greater advantage, upon Jesus 
Christ ; and that the stream of your affection 
to him may be so much the stronger, as there 
are now fewer channels for it to be divided into. 
If God will not have any part of your happiness 
to lie in children, then let it wholly lie in him- 
self. If the jealousy of the L«rd hath removed 
that which drew away too much of your heart 
from him, and hath spoken by this rod, saying, 
Stand aside, child, thou art in my way, and fill- 
est more room in thy parents hearts than be- 
longs to thee, O then deliver up all to him, 
and say, Lord, take the whole heart entirely, 
and undivirledly, to thyself. Henceforth let 
there be no parting, sharing, or dividing of the 
affections betwixt God and the creature, let all 
the streams meet, and centre in thee, only. 

Fifthly, That you may be strengthened with 
all might in the inner mm j to all patience, that 



the peace of God may keep your hearts and 
minds. Labor to bring your hearts to a meek 
submission to the rod of your Father. We had 
fathers of the flesh, who corrected us, and we 
gave them reverence ; shall Wv not much more 
be in subjection to the Father of spirits, and 
live ? Is it comely for children to contest, and 
strive with their father ? Or is it the way to be 
freed from the yoke, by struggling under it ? O 
that your hearts might be in a like frame with 
his that said, Lord, thou shalt beat, and I will- 
bear. It was a good observation that one made, 
Anlma sedendo et quiescendo fit sapiens : The soul 
grows wise by sitting still and quiet under the 
rod. And the apostle calls those excellent fruits 
which the saints gather from their sanctified af- 
flictions, " the peaceable fruits of righteousness," 
Heb. xii. 11. 

Lasty, My heart's desire, and prayer to God 
for you, is, that you may die daily to all visible 
enjoyments, and by these frequent converses 
with death in your family, you may be prepared 
for your own change and dissolution, when it 
shall come. 

O friends ! how many graves have you and I 
seen opened for our dear relations ? How oft 



9 

hath death come up into your windows, aiii 
summoned the delight of your eyes ? It is but a 
little while, and we shall go to them ; we and 
they are distinguished but by short intervals. 
Transrvere patres, shnul hlnc transibhnus omnes* 

Our dear parents are gone, our lovely and de- 
sirable children are gone, cur bosom relations, 
that were as our own sou!s> are gone ; and do 
not all these warning-knocks at our doors ac- 
quaint us, that we must prepare to follow short- 
ly after them ? 

O that by these things our own death might 
be both more easy, and familiar to us ; the oft- 
ner it visits us, the better we should be acquaint- 
ed with it ; and the more of our beloved rela- 
tions it removes before us, the less of either snare 
or intanglement remains for us when our turn 
comes. 

My dear friends, my flesh, and my blood, I 
beseech you, for religion's sake, for your own 
sake, and for my sake, whose comfort is, in great 
part, bound up in your prosperity, and welfare, 
that you read frequently, ponder seriously, and 
apply believingly these scripture consolations 
and directions, which, in some haste, I have 



10 

gathered for your Use ; and the God of all con- 
solation be with you. 

I am 9 

YoW most endeared brother, 

JOHN FLAVEL. 



A 

TOKEN 



Luke vii. 13. And when the Lord 
faw her> he had compajjion on her, 
and /aid to her. Weep not. 

TO be above the stroke of passion, is a con- 
dition equal to angels ; to be in a state of sor- 
row, without the sense of sorrow, is a disposi- 
tion beneath beasts : but duly to regulate our 
sorrows, and bound our passions under the rod, 
is the wisdom, duty, and excellency of a Chris- 
tian, He that is without natural affections, is 
deservedly ranked amongst the worst of heath- 
ens ; and he that is able rightly to manage 
them, deserves to be numbered with the best of 
Christians. Though, when we are sanctified, 
we put on the divine nature, yet, till we are 
glorified, we put not off the infirmities of our 
human nature. 



12 

Whilst we are within the reach of troubles, 
we cannot be without the danger, nor ought not 
to bj without the fear of sin ; and it is as hard 
for us to escape sin, being in adversity, as be- 
calming in prosperity. 

How apt are we to transgress the bounds, 
both of reason and religion, under a sharp afflic- 
tion, appears, as in most men's experience, so in 
this woman's example, to whosa excessive sor- 
row Christ puts a stop in the text : " He saw 
" her, and had compassion on her, and said to 
her, Weep not." 

The lamentations and wailings of this dis- 
tressed mother, moved the tender compassions of 
the Lord in beholding them, and stirred up more 
pity in his heart for her, than could be in her 
heart for her dear and only son. 

In the words we are to consider, both the 
condition of the woman, and the counsel of 
Christ, with respect unto it. 

First, The condition of this woman, which 
appears to be very dolorous and distressed ; her 
groans and tears melted the very heart of Christ 
to hear and behold them : - 4 When he saw her, 
he had compassion on her." 

How sad an hour it was with her when 



13 

Christ met her, appears by what is so distinct!/ 
remarked by the evangelist, in ver. 12, where it 
is said, 

" Now, when they came nigh to the gate of 
the city, behold, there was a dead man carried 
out, the only son of his mother, and she was a 
widow, and much people of the city was with 
her." 

In this one verse, divers heart-piercing cir- 
cumstances of this affliction are noted. 

Fmt, It was the death of a son.* To bury a 
child, any child, must needs rend the heart of a 
tender parent ; for what are children but the 
parent multiplied ? A child is a part of the par- 
#rit made up in another skin ; but to lay a son 
in the grave, a son who continues the name, 
and supports the family ; this was ever account- 
ed a very great affliction. 

Secondly, This son was not carried from the 
c; .idle to the coflin, nor stripped out of its swath- 
ing, to be wrapped in its winding-cloth. Had 
he died in his infancy, before h@ had engaged 
affection, or raised expectation, the affliction 
had not been so pungent, and cutting as now it 

* To be parents to children, is the firmest tie 
W affection. Grace* Com* 



14 

was ; death smote the son in the flower, in the 
prime of his time. He was a tnan, (saith the 
evangelist) ver. 12, a young man, (as Christ calls 
him) ver. 14, he was now arrived* at that age 
which made him capable of yielding his moth- 
er all that comfort which had been the expect- 
ation, and hope of many years, and the reward 
and fruit of many cares and labors ; yet then, 
when the endearments were greatest, and her 
hopes highest, even in the flower of his age, he 
is cut off. 

Thus Basil bewailed the death of his son :f 
" I once had a son, who was a young man, my 
only successor, the solace of my age, the glory 
of his kind, the prop of my family, arrived to 
the endearing age ; then was he snatched away 

* He died in his youth, and was therefore th© 
more to be lamented, because he was cut off in 
the flower of his age, unto which he was con- 
ducted from a child, by the great care and labor 
of his parents. Dion. Cat. on the place, 

t Films mthi erat^ adolescent, solus vitae successor^ 

solatium senectae, gloria generis, J!os aequalium doiuus, 

aet atem gratioslssimam agcbat ; h)c raftus per'zit, qui 

faulo ante jucundam vocem edebcd^jet jucundhswum 

| spectaculwn parentis oculis ex at. 



is 

from me by death, whose lively voice but a lit* 
tie before I heard, who lately was a pleasant 
spectacle to his parent." 

Reader, if this hath been thine own condi- 
tion, as it hath been his that writes it, I need 
say no more to convince thee that it was a sor- 
rowful state indeed, Christ met this tender moth- 
er in. 

Thirdly* And which is yet more, he was not 
only a son, but an only son : so you find, in ver. 
12, " He was the only son of his mother ;*** 
one in whom all her hopes and comforts, of that 
kind, were bound up. For, Omnis in Ascanh stat 
chart cur a parentis, Virgil. All her affections 
were contracted into this one object. If we 
have never so many children, we know not 
which of them to spare ; if they stand, like ol- 
ive- plants, about our tables, it would grieve us 
to see the least twig amongst them broken down* 
But surely the death of one out of many, is 
much more tolerable than all in one.f 

* She would have borne his death more pa- 
tiently, had he not ]>een an only son ; or if she 
had had but another left behind him to mitigate 
her sorrow . Ambrose. 

t As there is nothing dearer than an only 



16 

Hence it is noted in scripture as the greatest 
of earthly sorrows, Jer. vi. 26. " O daughter of 
m y people, gird thee with sackcloth, and wal- 
low thyself in ashes- Make thee mourning *i 
for an only son, most bitter lamentations."— 
Yea, so deep and penetrating is this grief, that 
the Holy Ghost borrows it to express the deepest 
spiritual troubles by it, Zech. xii, 1 0. " They 
shall mourn for him, (namely Christ, whom 
they pierced) as one mourneth for an only 

son." 

Fourthly, And yet, to heighten the affliction, 
it is superadded, ver 12. " And she was a. 
widow." So that the staff of her age, on which 
she leaned, was broken ;* she had now none 
left to comfort or assist her, in her helpless, 
comfortless state of widowhood ; which is a 
condition not only void of comfort, but exposed 
to oppression and contempt. 

Yea, being a widow, the whole burthen lay 

son, so that grief upon the account of his death, 
must be the greatest of all. Carth. on the place. 

* He was most dear to her, on a twofold ac- 
count, both because he was her only son, and 
that he was the comfort and support of her wid- 
o w hood. Piscator on the place. 



17 

Upon her alone ; she had not an husband to 
comfort her, as Elkanah did Hannah, in I Sam, 
i. 8. " Why weepest thou, and why is thy 
heart grieved ? Am I not better to thee than 
ten sons ?" This would have been a great re- 
lief ; but her husband was dead, as well as her 
son, both gone, and she only surviving, to la- 
ment the loss of those comforts that once she 
had. Her calamities came not single, but one 
after another, and this reviving, and aggravat- 
ing the former. This was her case, and condi- 
tion, when the Lord met her. 

Secondly, Let us consider the counsel which 
Christ gives her, with respect to this her sad 
and sorrowful case ; " And when the Lord saw 
her, he had compassion on her, and said unto 
her, " Weep not." Re/ieving and supporting 
words ; wherein we shall consider, 

1. The occasion. 

2. The motive. 

3. The counsel itself. 

1. The occasion of it, and that was his seeing 
of her. This meeting at the gate of the city, 
how accidental, and occasional soever it seems, 
yet, without doubt, it was providentially suited 
to the work intended to be wrought : The eye 

B 



IB 

of his omniscience foresaw her, and this meeting 
'was by him designee), as an occasion of that fa- 
mous miracle which he wrought upon the 
voung man. Christ hath a quick eye to discern 
poor, mourning, and disconsolate creatures : 
And though he be now in heaven, and stands 
out of our sight, so that we see him not ; yet 
he sees us, and his eye (which is upon all our 
troubles) still affects his heart, and moves his 
bowels for us. 

2. The motive stirring him up to give this 
relieving, and comfortable counsel to her, was 
his own compassion : She neither expected, 
nor desired it from him ; but so full of tender 
pity was the Lord towards her, that he prevents 
her with unexpected consolation : her heart 
was nothing so full of compassion for her son y 
as Christ was for her ; he bore our infirmities, 
even natural, as well as moral ones, in the days 
of his flesh ; and though he be now exalted to 
the highest glory, yet still he continues as mer- 
ciful as ever, and as apt to be touched with the 
Sense of our miseries, Heb. iv. 15. 

Lastly, The counsel itself, Weep net ; herein 

fulfilling the office of a comforter to them that 

f mourn, whejeunto he was anointed, Isa. xvi. I, 



. 19 

2, 3. Yet the words are not an absolute prohi- 
bition of tears, and sorrow ; he doth not con- 
demn all mourning as sinful, or all expressions of 
grief for dead relations, as uncomely ; no, Christ 
would not have his people stupid, and insen- 
sate ; he only prohibits the excesses, and ex- 
travagancies of our sorrows for the dead, that it 
should not be such a mourning for the dead as 
is founct among the heathen, who sorrow with- 
out measure, because without hope, being ignor- 
ant of that grand relief by the resurrection, 
which the gospel reveals. 

The resurrection of her son from the dead, is 
the ground upon which Christ builds her conso- 
lation, and relief ; well might he say, Weep not, 
when he intended quickly to remove the cause 
of her tears, by restoring him again to life. 

Now, though there be somewhat in this case 
extraordinary, and peculiar, for few or none that 
carry their dead children to the grave, may ex- 
pect to receive them again from the dead imme- 
diately, by a special resurrection, as she did ; I 
say, this is not to be expected by any that now 
lose their relations ; the occasion and reason of 
such miraculous, special resurrections, being re- 
moved, by a sufficient and full evidence, mi 



20 

confirmation of Christ's divine power and Gj$* 
head ; yet those that now bury their relations, 
if they be such as die in Christ, have as good 
and sufficient reason to moderate their passions, 
as this mourner had, and do as truly come with- 
in the reach and compass of this Christ's com- 
fortable, and supporting counsel, Weep not, as she 
did ; for do but consider, what of support or 
comfort can a particular and present resurrection 
from the dead gives us, more than that it is, and 
as it is, a specimen, handsel, or pledge of the 
general resurrection ? It is not the returning of 
the soul to its body, to 11 ve an animal life again f 
in this world of sin and sorrow, and shortly af- 
ter to undergo the agonies, and pains of death 
again, that is in itself any such privilege as may 
afford much comfort to the person raised, or his 
relations : It is no privilege to the person raised, 
for it returns him from rest to trouble, from the 
harbor back again into the ocean. It is matter 
of trouble to many dying saints, to hear of the 
likelihood of their returning again, when they 
are got so nigh to heaven. 

It was once the case of a godly minister of this 
nation, who was much troubled at his return, 
and said, I am like a sheep driven out of the 



21 

storm almost to the fold, and then driven back in- 
to the storm again ; or a weary traveller that 
is come near his home, and then must go back 
to fetch somewhat he had forgotten ; or an ap- 
prentice, whose time is almost expired, and then 
must begin a new term. 

But to die, and then return again from the 
dead, hath less of privilege, than to return only 
from the brink of the grave ; for the sick have 
not yet felt the agonies and last struggles, or 
paags of death ; but sach have felt them once, 
and must feel them again ; they must die twice, 
before they can be happy onee ; and, besides, 
during the little time they spend on earth her 
twixt the first and second dissolution, there is a 
perfect forgetfulness, and insensibleness, of all 
that which they saw, or enjoyed, in their estate 
of separation ; it being necessary, that they may 
be content to live, and endure the time of sepa- 
ration, from that blessed and ineffable state, qui- 
etly and patiently ;* and for others, that they 
may live by faith, and not by sense ; and build 

* Victurosqueducelant, ut where durent. 

How long or short men live is kept a mystery, 
To make us both live well and less afraid to die. 



22 

upon divine, and n:>t human authority and re- 
port. 

So that here you see, their agonies, and pangs 
are doubled, and yet their lives not sweetened 
by any sense of their happiness, which returns 
and remains with them ; and therefore it can 
be no such privilege to them. 

And for their relations : though it be some 
somfort to receive them again from the dead ; 
yet the consideration that they are returned to 
them into the stormy sea, to partake of new- 
sorrows and troubles, from which they were 
lately free i And in a short time they must 
part with them again, and feel the double sor- 
rows of a parting pull, which others feel but 
once ; surely such a particular resurrection, con- 
sidered in itself, is no such ground of eomibrt as 
at first we might imagine it to be. 

It remains, then, that the ground of all solid 
comfort and relief, against the death of our rela- 
tions, lies in the general and last resurrection, 
and what is in a particular one, is but, as it 
were, a specimen* and evidence of the general ; 
and there the apostle placet our relief, i Thess. 

* Therein we have a noble specimen of the 
future resurrection. Cafoin on the flace. 



iv. 17, that we shall see, and enjoy them again* 
at the Lord's coming. And sarely this is more 
than if (with this mother in the text) we should 
presently receive them from the dead, as she did 
her son : And if we judge not so, it is because our 
hearts are carnal, and measure things rather by 
time and sense, than by faith and eternity. 

Thus you .see the counsel, with its ground, 
which, for the most part, is common to other 
Christian mourners with her.; the difference 
being but inconsiderable, and of little advant- 
age. 

Here, then, you find many aggravations of 
sorrow meeting together ; a son, an only son, 
is carrying to the grave ; yet Christ commands 
the pensive mother, not to mourn. 
Hence we note, 
Doct. That Christians ought to moderate their sor- 
S&rrmvs for their dead relations, ho*w many afflict- 
ing circumstances, and aggravations soever meet 
together in their death. 
It is common with men, yea, with good 
men, to exceed in ther sorrows for dead rela- 
tions,* as it is to exceed in their love and de- 

* Whatever we love ardently while we have 
it, we lament bitterly when we lose it. Greg. mor. 



21 

lights to living relations ; and both of the one, 
and the other, we may say, as they say of wa- 
ters, it is hard to confine them within their 
bounds. It is therefore grave advice which the 
apostle delivers in this case, 1 Cor. vii. 29, 30. 
u But this I say, brethren, the time is short ; 
it remaineth that both they that have wives, 
be as though they had none ; and those that 
rejoice, as though they rejoiced not." As if he 
had said, the floating world is near its port f 
God hath contracted the sails of man's life ; it 
is but a point of time we have to live, and 
shortly it will not be a point to chuse whether 
we had wives or not, children or not. All these 
are time-eaten things, and before the expected 
fruit of these comforts be ripe, we ourselves may 
be rotten. It is therefore an high point of wis- 
dom to look upon things which shortly will not 
be, as if already they were not, and to behave 
ourselves, in the loss of these carnal enjoyments, 
as the natural man behaves himself in the use 
of spiritual ordinances ; he hears as if he had 
not, and we should weep as if we wept not ; 
their affections are a little moved, sometimes by 

* The time is contracted. 



25 

spiritual things, but they never lay them so to 
heart, as to be broken-hearted for the sin they 
hear of, or deeply affected with the glory re- 
vealed. We also ought to be sensible of the 
stroke of God upon our dear relations ; but yet 
still we must weep, as if we wept not ; this is, 
we must keep due bounds, and moderation in 
our sorrows, and not be too deeply concerned 
for these dying, short-lived things. 

To this purpose the apostle exhorts, Heb. xii. 
5. " My son, despise not the chastening of the 
Lord, neither faint when thou art rebuked of 
him." These are two extremes, despising, and 
fainting : when God is correcting, to say, I do 
not regard it, let God take all, if he will ; if my 
estate must go, let it* go : if my children die, 
let them die ; this is to despise the Lord's chast- 
ening ; and God cannot bear it, that we should 
bear it thus lightly. 

There is also another extreme, and that is 
fainting : if, when goods are taken away, the 
heart be taken away, and when children die, 
then the spirit of the parent dies also ; this is 
fainting under the rod. Thou lamentest, saith 
Seneca, thy deceased friend ; but I would not 
C 



26 

• * 
have thee grieve beyond what is meet : ''that 

thou shouldst not grieve at all, I dare not require 
thee ; tears may be excused, if they do not ex- 
ceed. Let thine eyes, therefore, be neither 
wholly dry, nor let them overflow ; weep thou 
mayest, but wail thou must not. 

Happy man, that still keeps the golden bridle 
of moderation upon his passions, and affections, 
and still keeps the possession of himself, what- 
soever he lose the possession of. 

Now the method in which 1 propose to pro- 
ceed, shall be, 

1 . To discover the signs. 

2. To dissuade from the sin. 

3. To remove the pleas. 

4. To propose the cure of immoderate sor- 
row. 

Fint 7 I shall give you the signs of immoder- 
ate sorrow, and shew you when it exceeds its 
bounds, and becomes sinful, even a sorrow to be 
sorrowed for ; and, for clearness sake, I will first 
allow what may be allowed to the Christian 
i mourner, and ihen you will the better discern 
wherein the excess and sinfulness of your sorrow 
lies. 

And, Fm/jHow much soever we censure, and 



27 

condemn immoderate sorrow ; yet the afflicted 
must bd allowed an awakened, and tender sense of the 
Lstd's afflicting hand upon them. It is no virtue 
to bear what we do not feel ; yea, it is a most 
unbecoming temper, not to tremble when God 
is smiting. 

The Lord saith to Moses, in the case of Miri- 
am, Numb. xii. 24. " If her father had spit in 
her face, should she not be ashamed seven days P f 
The face is the table, and seat of beauty and hon- 
or ; but when it is spit upon, it is made the 
sink of shame. Had her own father spit upon 
her face, when she had displeased him, would 
she not have gone aside, as one ashamed by such 
a rebuke, and not have shewed her face to 
him again, in seven days ? How much more 
should she take it to heart, and be sensible of 
this rebuke of mine, who have filled her face 
with leprous spots, the signs of my displeasure 
against her ? Surely God will be ashamed of 
those who are not ashamed when God rebukes 
them. 

It is not magnanimity, but stupidity, to make 
light of God's corrections ; and for this the af- 
flicted are smartly taxed, Jer. v. 3. " I have 
smitten them, but they have not grieved."— - 



28 

When God smote Job in person, children, and 
estate, he arose, and rent his mantle, and put 
dust upon his head, to shew he was not sense- 
less, and unaffected, and yet blessed the afflict- 
ing God ; which, as plainly shewed, he was 
not contumacious, and unsubmissive. 

Secondly, We must allow the mournings afflicted 
sauly a due j and comely expression of his grief, and 
aorrow, in his complaints, both to God and men. 

It is much more becoming a Christian, ingen-> 
uously to open his troubles, than sullenly to 
smother them. There is no sin in complaining 
to God, but much wickedness in complaining 
of him. Griefs are eased by groans, and heart- 
pressures relieved by utterance* This was Da- 
vid's course, and constant way, who was a man 
of afflictions, Psalm cxlii. 2j 3. u I poured out 
my complaint before him, I shewed before him 
my trouble ; when my spirit was overwhelmed 
within me, then thou knowest my path." 

To whom should children go, but to their 
father, to make their moan ? Whence may they 
expect relief, and comfort, but from him ? The 
102d Psalm is intitled," A psalm for the afflict- 
ed, when he is overwhelmed, and poureth out 
his complaint before the Lord." 



2V 

Arid happy were it, if every afflicted soul 
would chuse this way to express his sorrows. Did 
we complain more to God, he would complain 
less of us, and quickly abate the matters of our 
complaint. O you cannot think how moving, 
how melting, how prevailing it is with God, 
whin his poor, burdened, and afflicted people, 
in a day of distress, and despondency, when deep 
calleth unto deep, and one wave drives on an- 
other, then for the oppressed soul, with humili- 
ty, filial confidence, and faith, to turn itself to 
the Lord, and thus bespeak him : 

6 Father, what shall 1 do ? my soul is greatly 
bowed down by trouble ; 1 am full to the brim, 
my vain heart looked this way, and that way, 
but none comes ; every door of comfort is shut 
up against me : thou hast multiplied my sor- 
rows, and renewed my witnesses against me. 
Comfort is removed from my outward, and 
peace from my inner man ; sharp afflictions 
without, and bitter reflections within. O Lord, 
I am oppressed, undertake for me. Fathers of 
the flesh pity their distressed children, when, 
they complain to them ; and wilt not thou, O 
Lord, whose compassions as far exceed creature* 



30 

compassions, as the sea exceeds a drop ; O my 
| Father ! pity me, support me, deliver me." 

O how acceptable is this to God ! how ad- 
vantageous to the soul ! 

We may also make our complaint to men. 
So did Job, chap. xix. ver. 21. " Have pity, 
have pity on me, O ye my friends, for the hand 
of God hath touched me." And it is a mercy 
if we have any friends that are wise, faithful, 
and experienced ; they are born for such a time 
as this, Prov. xvii. 17, but be they what they 
will, they cannot pity as God, relieve, and suc- 
cor as he ; and oftentimes we may say, with 
Job, chap. xxi. ver. 4. " As for me, is my 
complaint to men ? and if it were, why should 
not my spirit be troubled ?" q. d. What great 
advantage can I get by these complaints \ I 
may burden the heart of my friend, but how 
little doth that ease my own ? yet the very op- 
ening of the heart to an experienced, tender 
Christian, is some relief, and the engaging his 
prayers is more. Thus far you moan safely ; in- 
all this there is no danger. 

Thirdly, The afflicted person may (ordinarily) ac- 
cuse, judge, and condemn himself, for being the cause, 
and procurer of his oivn troubles. He may lawful* 



31 

ly be discontented, and vexed with himself fc? 
his own folly, when the iniquity of his heels 
compasseth him about. And truly it is but sel- 
dom that any great affliction befalls a gracious 
person, but he saw the need of such a rod, before 
he felt it. 

Hath God smitten thy child, or friend, and 
didst thou not foresee some sharp trial coming ? 
Did not thy fond, secure, carnal temper, need 
such a scourge, to awaken, quicken, and purge 
thee ? Or, if you did not foresee it, it is now 
your duty to search, and examine yourselves* 
So the church, in her affliction, resolved, Lam. 
iii. 40. " Let us search and try our ways." 
When God is smiting, we should be a search- 
ing : Surely our iniquities will enquire after us, 
if we will not enquire after them : yea, in the 
day of affliction, a gracious soul is inquisitive 
about nothing more than the procuring, and 
provoking cause of his troubles. Job x. 2. 
" Shew me wherefore thou contendest with 
me ;" q. d. Lord, what special corruption is it 
that this rod is sent to rebuke ? What sinful 
neglect doth it come to humble me for ? dis- 
cover it now to me, and recover me now from 
it. 



32 

And having found the root, and cause of their 
troubles, ingenuous souls will shame themselves 
for it, and give glory to God, by an humble 
submission, and vindication of the equity of his 
proceedings. Job vii. 20. " I have sinned, 
what shall I do unto thee, thou preserver of 
men- ?" He thinks it no shame freely to discover 
unto God, and deeply to abase himself before 
him for his folly. 

I remember a choice note that* Mr. Bright- 
man hath, in his commentary upon the Canti- 
cles. 

* Holy men, saith he, after their hearts are 
renewed by repentance, are not ashamed to re- 
member, and confess their slips, and shameful 
falls to the glory of God.' If his glory may rise 
out of our shame, how willing should we be to 
take such slrame to us ? Holy David was not 
ashamed to acknowledge, Psalm xxxviii. 5. 
" My wounds stink, and are corrupted, because 
of my foolishness." He is the wisest man that 
thus befools himself before God. 

* Nee enim pudet s-netos viros, pvstquam renova- 
ta cor da fuerint per resipiscentiam, lapsus sid and de- 
decoris ad Dei gloriam meniin'nse. Nihil nobis dece- 
dit, quod cedit in illius honor enu Brightman in 
Cant. c. 1. v. 4. p. 11. 



S3 

It is true, God may afflict from prerogative, 
or for trial ; but we may always see cause e- 
nough in ourselves, and it is safest to charge it 
upon our own folly. 

Lastly, The afflicted Christian may, in- an humble-, 
submissive manner, plead 'with God, and be earnest 
for the removal of the affliction. 

When affliction presseth us above strength, 
when it disables us for duty, or when it gives 
advantage to temptation ; then we may say 
with David, " Remove thy stroke from me, I 
am consumed by the blow of thjpe hand," PsaL 
xxxix. 10. Even our Lord Jesus Christ, in the 
i^y of his troubles, poured out his soul with 
strong cries, and many tears, saying, " Father, 
if thou be willing, let this cup pass from me," 
Luke xxii. 42. Oppressed nature desires ease, 
and even our renewed nature desires freedom 
from those clogs, and temptations, which hin- 
der us in duty, or expose us to snares. 
Thus far we may safely go. 

But sorrow then becomes sinful, and exces- 
sive, when, 

First, It causeth us to slight, and desftse all out* 
other mercies, and enjoyments, as small things, in com- 
parison of what njoe have lost. 



84 

It often falls out, that the setting of oneeom- 
fort, clouds, and benights the rest. Our tears 
for our lost enjoyments, so blind our eyes, that 
we cannot see the many other mercies which 
yet remain : we take so much notice of what is 
gone, that we take little or no notice of what is 
left. But this is very sinful, for it involves in 
it both ignorance, ingratitude, and great provo- 
cation. 

It is a sin springing from ignorance. Did 
we know the desert of our sins, we should rath- 
er wonder to s^fone mercy left, than that twen- 
ty are cut off. They that know they have for. 
feited every mercy, should be thankful that they 
enjoy any, and patient when they lose any of 
their comforts. 

Did we know God, even that sovereign Lord 
at whose dispose our comforts come and go, who 
can next moment blast all that remain, and turn 
you into hell afterwards, you would prize the 
mercies he yet indulges to you, at an higher val- 
ue. Did you understand the fickle, vanishing 
nature of the creature, what a flower, what a, 
bubble it is ; O how thankful would you be r 
to find so many yet left in your possession I 



35 

Did you know the case of thousands, as good, 
yea, better than you, whose whole harvest of 
comfort in this world is but a handful, to the 
gleanings of the comforts you still enjoy, wh<* 
in all their lives never were owners of such com- 
fortable enjoyments, as you now overlook ; sure- 
ly you would not act as you now do. 

Besides, what vile ingratitude is in this ? 
What, are all your remaining mercies worth 
nothing ? You have buried a child, a friend ; 
well, but still you have a husband, a wife, oth- 
er children ; or if not, you have comfortable ac- 
commodations for yourselves, with health to en- 
joy them ; or, if not, jet have you the ordi- 
nances of God, it may be, an interest in Christ 
and in the covenant, pardon of sin, and hopes of 
glory. What, and yet sink itt this rate, as if 
all your mercies, comforts, and hopes, even in 
both worlds, were buried in one grave. Must 
Ichabod be written upon your best mercies, be- 
cause mortality is written upon one ? Fy, fy 9 
what shameful ingratitude is here ? 

And really, friend, such a carriage as this un- 
der the rod, is no small provocation to the Lord 
to go on in judgment, aod make a full end of all 



36 

that remains, so that affliction shall not rise up 
the second time. 

What if God, taking notice how little thoti 
regardest the many undeserved favors thou pos- 
sessest, should say, well, if thou thinkest them 
not worth the owning, neither do I think them 
worth continuing ? Go, death, there is a hus- 
band^ wife, other children yet left, smite them 
all. Go, sickness, and remove the health of his 
tody yet left ; go losses, and impoverish his es- 
tate yet left ; go, reproach, and blast his repu- 
tation, which is yet sweet ; what would you 
think of this ? And yet, if thou be out of Christ, 
you are in danger of a far sadder stroke than any, 
pr all yet mentioned ; what if God should say, 
Prizest thou not my mercy ? Hast thou no val- 
ue for my goodness, and forbearance towards 
thee ? Is it nothing that I have spared thee 
thus long in thy sins, and rebellions ? Weil, 
then, I will stretch out my hand upon thy life, 
cut off that thread which hath kept thee so 
many years from dropping into hell. 

O mink, then, what you have done, by pro- 
voking the Lord, through your vile ingratitude ! 
It is a dangerous thing to provoke God, when 
he is already in a way of judgment. And if 



37 

you be his own people, and so out of danger of 
this last and worst stroke ; yet know, you have 
better mercies to lose than any you have yet 
lost. Should God cloud ) our souls with doubts, 
let loose Satan to buffet you, remove joy and 
peace from your inner man, how soon would 
you be convinced that the funeral of your dearest 
friend is but a trifle to this ? 

Well, then, whatever God takes, be still 
thankful for what he leaves. It was the great 
sin of Israel in the wilderness, that though God 
had delivered them from their cruel servitude in 
Egypt, miraculously fed them in the desert, and 
was leading them on to a land flowing with 
milk and honey ; yet as soon as any want did 
but begin to pinch them, presently all these 
mercies were forgotten and slighted, Numb. xiv. 
12. " Would to God (say they) we had died in 
Egypt." And, Numb. xi. 6, " There is noth- 
ing at all beside this manna." Beware of this, 
O ye mourning and afflicted ones. You see 
both the sin that is in it, and the danger that 
attends it. 

Secondly, And no less sinful are our sorrows, 
When they so 'wholly ingnlph our hearts, that *we ei- 
ther nimd not at alL cr are little or noihln? sensible 
D 



38 

of the fuhllc ewls and calamities, which lie upon tftt 
church and people of God* 

Some Christians have such public spirits, that 
the church's troubles swallow up their personal 
troubles. Melancthon seemed to take little no- 
tice of the death of his child which he dearly 
loved, being almost overwhelmed with the 
miseries lying on the church. 

And it was a good evidence of the gracious- 
ness and pubiicness of Eli's spirit, who sitting 
in the gate, anxiously waiting for tidings from 
the army, when the tidings came that Israel 
fled before the Philistines, that his two sons 
Hophni and Phinehas were dead, and that the 
ark of God was taken, just at the mention of 
that word, * The ark of God ^ before he heard 
out the whole narration, his mind quickly pre- 
saged the issue, he sunk down and died, 1 Sam. 
iv, 17. 18. O that was the sinking, the kill- 
ing word ; had the messenger stopt at the death 
of his two sons, like enough he had supported 
that burden ; but the loss oi the ark was more 
to him than sons or daughters. 

* Cumque ille noroinasset arcam Dei. q. d. 
uondum integram, sed iuchoatarn audiens narra- 
tionem, mente praevolans et exiium praesagiens 
toebat. Mereoz. ia loc. 



39 

But how few such public spirits appear even 
among prefessors in this selfish generation ? 
May we not with the apostle complain, Phil. 
i 21, " All seek their own, and not the things 
" that are of Christ :" Few men have any great 
cares or designs, lying beyond the bounds of 
their own private interest. And what we say 
of cares, is as true of sorrows: If a child die, 
we are ready to die too, but public calamity 
pierce us not. 

How few suffer either their domestic com- 
forts to be swallowed up in the church's troub- 
les, or their domestic troubles to be swallowed 
up by the church's mercies ! Now when it is 
thus with us, when we little regard what mer- 
cies or miseries lie upon others, but are wholly 
intent upon our ov/n afflictions, this is a sinful 
sorrow, and ought to be sorrowed for. 

Thirdly, Our sorrows then become sinful and 
exorbitant, When they divert us from, or distract 
us in, our duties, so that cur intercourse with heaven 
is stGpt and interrupted by them. 

How long can we sit alone musing upon a 
dead creature ? Here our thoughts easily flow ; 
but how hard to fix them upon the living God ! 
when our hearts should be in heaven with our 



40 

Christ, they are in the grave with our dead. 
May not many afflicted souis justly complain, 
that their troubles had taken away their Christ 
from them, (I mean as to sweet sensible com- 
munion) and laid the dead child in his room? 

Poor creature, cease to weep any longer for 
thy dead relation, and weep rather for thy dead 
heart. Is this thy compliance with God's de- 
sign in afflicting thee ? What, to grow a great- 
er stranger to him than before ! Or is this the 
way t3 thy cure and comfort in affliction, to 
refrain prayer, and turn thy back upon God ? 

Or if thou darest not wholly to neglect thy 
duty, yet thy affliction spoils the success and 
comfort of it ; thy heart is wandring, dead, dis- 
tracted in prayer and meditation, so that thou 
hast no relief or comfort from it. 

Rouze up thyself, Christian, and consider 
this is not right. Surely the rod works not 
kindly now. What, did thy love to God ex- 
pire when thy friend expired ? Is thy heart as 
cold in duty, as his body is in the grave ? 

Hath natural death seized him, and spiritual 
death seized thee ? Sure then thou ha^t more 
reason to lament thy dead heart, than thy dead 
friend. Divert the stream of thy troubles spee- 



41 

dily, and labour to recover thyself out of this 
temper quickly ; lest sad experience shortly tell 
thee, that what thou now mournest for, is but 
a trifle to what thou shalt mourn for hereafter* 
To lose the heavenly warmth and spiritual 
liveliness of thy affections, is undoubtedly a 
far more considerable loss, than to lose the wife 
of thy bosom, or the sweetest child that ever a 
tender parent laid in the grave. 

Reader, if this be thy case, thou hast reason 
to challenge the first place among the mourn- 
ers. It is better for thee to bury ten sons, 
than to remit one degree of love or delight in 
God. The end of God in smiting, was to win 
thy heart nearer to him by removing that 
which enstranged it ; how then dost thou cross 
the very design of God in this dispensation? 
Must God then lose his delight in thy fellow- 
ship, because thou hast lost thine in the crea- 
ture ? Surely, when thy troubles thus accompa- 
ny thee to thy closet, they are sinful and ex- 
travagant troubles. 

Fourthly, Then you may also conclude your 
sorrows to be excessive and sinful, When they so 
overload and oppress your bodies, as to endanger ycur 
lives, or render them useless and unfit for service* 

D • 



42 

Worldly sorrow works deatt, 2 Cor. vii. 1 0. 
that is, sorrow after the manner of worldly 
men * ; sorrow in a mere carnal, natural way, 
which is not relieved by any spiritual reason- 
ings and considerations. This falls so heavy 
sometimes upon the body, that it sinks under 
the weight, and is cast into such diseases as are 
never more wrought off, or healed in this world. 
" Heaviness in the heart of a man makes it 
stoop," saith Solomon, Prov. xii. 25. The 
stoutest body must stoop under heart-press- 
ures. 

It is with the mind of man, saith one, as 
with xjie stone tyrfenus ; as long as it is whole it 
swimmeth ; but, once broken, it sinks present- 
ly. Grief is a moth, which, getting into the 
mind, will in a short time, make the body, be 
it never so strong and well wrought a piece, 
like an old seary garment. 

Philosophers and physicians generally reckon 
Sorrow among the chief causes of shortning 
life. Christ was a man of sorrows, and ac- 
quainted with grief, and this some think was 

* Worldly sorrow is after the manner of the 
^vorld, arising from the love of it. Esiius on tint 
place. 



43 

the reason that he appeared a man of fifty, 
when he was little more thanthiity years old, 
John viii, 57, But his sorrows were of anoth- 
er kind f . 

Many a man's soul is to his body, as a sharp 
knife to a thin sheath, which easily cuts it 
through ; and what do we by poring and pon- 
dering upon our troubles, but whet the knife 
that it may cuMhe deeper and quicker? Of all 
the creatures that ever God made (devils only 
excepted) man is the most able and apt to be his 
own tormentor. 

How unmercifully do we load our bodies in 
times of afflictions ? How do we not only waste 
their strength by sorrew, but deny relief ^nd 
necessary refreshment ? They must carry the 
load, but be allowed no refreshment : if they 
can eat the bread of affliction, and drink tears, 
they may feed to the full ; but no pleasant bread, 
no quiet sleep is permitted them. Surely you 
would not burden a beast as you do your own 

t These things write I unto you, who have 
wept so immoderately, that 1 become an exam- 
ple (which 1 always abhorred) of those whom 
grieihath overcome. Yet this unreasonable 
conduct 1 now condemn myself for. Senec* 



44 

bodies : You would pity and relieve a brute 
beast, groaning and sinking under an heavy bur- 
den, but you will not pity nor relieve your own 
bodies. 

Some mens souls have given such deep 
wounds to their bodies, that they are never like 
to enjoy many easier or comfortable days more 
whilst they dwell in them. 

Now, this is very sinful and displeasing to 
God ; for if he have such a tender care for our 
bodies, that he would not have us swallowed 
up of over much grief, no, though it be for sin, 
2 Cor.ii. 7. but even to that sorrow sets bounds^ 
how much less with outward sorrow for tempo- 
lal loss? May not yourvtock of natural strength 
be employed to better purposes, think you, than 
these? Time may eome, that you may ear- 
nestly wish you had the health and strength 
again to spend for God, which you now so lav- 
ishly waste, and prodigally cast ft way upon 
your troubles, to no purpose or advantage. 

It was therefore an high point of wisdom in 
David, and recorded no doubt for our imitation, 
who, when the child was dead, ceased to mourn, 
but arose, washed himself, and eat bread, 2 
Sam. xii. 2D. 



45 

Fifthly, When affliction sours the spirit 
with discontent, and makes it inwardly grudge 
against the hand of God, then our trouble is full 
of sin, and we ought to be humbled for it before 
the Lord. 

Whatever God doth with us, or ours, still 
we should maintain good thoughts of him, A 
gracious heart cleaves nearer and nearer to God 
in affliction, and can justify God in his severest 
strokes, acknowledging them to be all just and 
holy, PsaL cxix. 75. " I know also that thy 
"Judgments are right, and that thou in faithful- 
" ness hast afflicted me." And hereby the 
soul may comfortably evidence to itself its own 
uprightness and sincere love to God ; yea, it 
hath been of singular use to some souls, to take 
right measures of the^r love to God in such tri- 
als : to have lovely and well-pleased thoughts of 
God, even when he smites us in our nearest 
and dearest comforts, argues plainly that we 
love him for himself, and not for his gifts only. 
And thus his interest in the heart is deeper than 
any creature interest is. And such is the com- 
fort that hath resulted to some from such dis- 
coveries of their own hearts by close smarting 
afflictions, that they would not part with it, to 



4© 

have their comforts (whose removal occasioned 
them) given back in lieu of it. 

But to swell with secret discontent, and have 
hard thoughts of God, as if he had done us 
wrong, or dealt more severely with us than a- 
ny ; O this is a vile temper, cursed fruit spring- 
ing from an evil root; a very carnal, ignorant, 
proud-heart : or at least a very distempered, if 
renewed heart. So it was with Jonah when 
God smote his gourd: " Yea, (saith he) I 4,° 
" well to be angry even unto death," Jonah iv. 
9. Poor man, he was highly distempered at this 
time, and out of frame ; this was not his true 
temper, or ordinary frame, but a surprise ; the 
effect of a paroxism of temptation, in which his 
passions had been over heated. 

Few dare to vent it in such language: but 
how many have their hearts imbittered by dis- 
content, and secret risings against the Lord ? 
Which, if ever the Lord open their eyes to see, 
will cost them more trouble than ever that af- 
fliction did, which gave the occasion of it. 

I deny not but the best heart may be tempt- 
ed to think and speak frowardly concerning 
these works of the Lord ; that envious adversa- 
ry, the devil, will blow the coals, and labour to - 



47 

blow up our spirits at such time into high dis- 
contents : The temptation was strong even up- 
on David himself, to take up hard thoughts of 
God, and to conclude, " Verily I have cleansed 
" m y heart in vain;" q, d. How little privi- 
lege from the worst of evils hath a man by his 
goodness? But he soon suppressed such mo- 
tions: " If I should say thus, I should offend 
" against the generation of thy children :" 
Meaning, that he should condemn the whole 
race of godly men through the whole world ; 
for who is there among them all, but is, or 
hath, or may be, afflicted as severely as my- 
self? 

" Surely, it is meet to be said unto God, I 
" have borne chastisement, I will not offend any 
" more," Job xxxiv. 31. Whatever God doth 
with you, speak well, and think well of him, 
and his works. 

Sixthly, Our sorrows exceed due bounds nvhen 
ive continually excite and provoke them by ivjllingy 
irritations. 

Grief, like a Lion, loves to play with us be- 
fore it destroys us. And strange it is that we 
should find some kind of pleasure in rouzing 



48 

our sorrows. It is * Seneca's observation, and 
experimentally true, that even sorrow itself hath 
a certain kind of delight attending it. 

The Jews, that were with Mary in the house 
to comfort her, " when they saw that she 
« went out hastily, followed her, saying, she 
" goeth to the grave to weep there/' John xi. 
32. as they do, saith f Calvin, < that seek to 
i provoke their troubles, by going to the grave, 
« or often looking upon the dead body,* 

Thus we delight to look upon the relics of 
our deceased friends, and often to mention their 
actions, and sayings, not so much for any mat- 
ter of holy, and weighty instruction, or imita- 
tion, for that would warrant, and commend 
the action ; but rather to rub the wound, and 
fetch fresh blood from it, by piercing ourselves 
with some little, trivial, yet wounding circum- 
stance. I have known many that will sit 

* Sorrow itself has a certain kind of pleasure 
attending it, when the parents call to mind the 
pleasant sayings, the chee r ful conversation, and 
the filial affection of their ■children, then their 
eyes are refreshed as it were with a kind of joy. 

f Ex eerum more qui Indus sui irntamcnta quaer- 
unt. Calvin. 



49 

and talk of the features^, actions and sayings, of 
their children, for four hours together, and weep 
at the rehearsal of them, and that for many 
months after they are gone; so keeping the 
wound continually open, and excruciating their 
own hearts, without any benefit at all by them : 
A lock of hair, or some such trifles, must be kept 
for this purpose, to renew their sorrow daily, 
by looking on it. On this account, Jacob 
would not have his son called Benoni, lest it 
should renew his sorrow, but Benjamin. 

I am far from commending a brutish oblivi- 
on of our dear relations, and condemn it as much 
as I do this childish, and uoprofitable remem- 
brance. O friends ! we have other things to do 
nnder the rod, than these : Were it not better 
to be searching our hearts, and houses, when 
God's rod is upon us, and studying how to an- 
swer the end of it, by mortifying those corrup- 
tions which provoke it ? Surely the rod works 
not kindly till it comes to this. 

Seventhly, Lastly, Our sorrows may then be 
pronounced sinful, when they deafen our ears 
to all the wholesome, and seasonable words of 
counsel, and comfort, offered us for our relief and 
support. 



50 

Jer. xxxi 15. " A voice was heard in Ramab y 
11 lamentation and bitter weeping ; Rachel 
« weeping for her children, would not be com- 
" forted for her children, because they were 
" not.'' She will admit no comfort, her dis- 
ease is curable by no other means but the res- 
toration of her children ; give her them again r 
and she will be quiet ; else you speak into air^ 
she regards not whatever you say. 

Thus Israel, in the cruel bondage in Egypt, 
Moses brings the glad tidings of deliverance; 
■" but they harkened not to him, because of the 
a anguish of spirit, and their cruel bondage," 
Exod. vi. 9. 

Thus obstinately fixed are many, in their 
trouble, that no words of advice, or comfort, 
find any place with them ; yea, I have known 
some exceeding quick and ingenuous, even a- 
bove the rate of their common parts and abili- 
ties, in inventing shifts, and framing objections 
to turn off comfort from themselves, as if they 
had been hired to plead against their own in- 
terest ; and if they be driven from those pleas, 
yet they are settled in their troubles, too fast to 
be moved ; say what you will, they muid it 
not, or, at most, it abides not upon them. Let 



proper, seasonable advice, or cqpnfort, be tender- 
«d, they refuse it ; your counsel is good, but 
they have no heart to it now. Thus, PsaL 
Ixxvii. 10. • " My soul (saith he) refused to be 
comforted." 

To want comfort in time of affliction, is an 
aggravation of our affliction; but to refuse it 
when offered us, wants not sin. Tim* may 
come when we would be glad to receive com- 
fort, or hear a word of support, and shall be de- 
nied it. 

O it is a mercy to the afflicted to have Bar- 
nabas with them, an interpreter, one among a 
thousand ; and it will be the great sin, and folly 
of the afflicted, to spill, like water upon the 
ground, those excellent cordials, prepared and 
offered to them, out of a froward, ©r dead spirit, 
under trouble. Say not with them, Lam. iii. 
18, 19. " My hope is perished from the Lord, 
" remembering mine affliction and my misery, 
" the wormwood and the gall." It is a thous- 
and pities the wormwood and gall of affliction 
should so disgust a christian, as that he should 
not at any time be able to relish the sweetness 
that is in Christ, and in the promises. And 
thus I have despatched the first part of my d$- 



52 

I 
sign, in shewing you wherein the sin of mourn- 
ers doth not lie, and in what it doth. 

Secondly, having declared this, and shewn 
you wherein the sin and danger lies ; my way 
is now prepared to the second thing proposed, 
namely, to dissuade mdurners from these sinful 
excesses of sorrows, and keep the golden bridle 
of moderation upon their passions in times of 
affliction. And O that my words may be as 
successful upon those pensive souls that shall 
read them, as Abigal's were to David, 1 Sam. 
xxv. 32. who, when he perceived how proper 
and seasonable they were, said, " Blessed be the 
" Lord God of Israel, who sent thee this day to 
" meet me, and blessed be thy advice." 

I am sensible how hard a task it is 1 here 
undertake, to charm down, and allay mutinous, 
raging, and tumultuous passions; to give a 
check to the torrent of pasion, is ordinarily but 
to provoke it, and make it rage and swell the 
more. 

The work is the Lord's it wholly depends 
upon his power, and blessing. He that saith 
to the sea, when the waves thereof roar, be 
still ; can also quiet, and compose the stormy, 
and tumultuous sea, that rages in the breasts of 



53 



the afflicted, and casts up nothing but the froth 
of vain and useless complaints of our misery, or 
the dirt of sinful and wicked complaints of the 
dealings of the Lord with us. 

The rod of affliction goes round, and visits 
all sorts of persons, without difference: it is up- 
on the tabernacles of the just and the unjust, 
the righteous and the wicked ; both are mourn- 
ing under the rod. 

: The godly are not so to be minded, as that the 
other be wholly neglected ; they have as strong 
and tender, though not as regular affections to 
their relations, aud must not be wholly suffered 
to sink under their unrelieved burdens. , 

Here, therefore, I must have respect to two 
sorts of persons, whom I find in tears upon the 
same account ; I mean the loss of their dear re- 
lations, the regenerate, and the unregenerate. I 
am a debtor to both, and shall endeavour their 
support and assistance, for even the unregenerate 
call for our help and pity, and must not tee neg- 
lected, and wholly slighted, in their afflictions*. 
The lav/ of God commands us to help a beast, 

* Nil miserjus miser o nan miser ante scipsum, i. e. 
None is more to be pitied than a poor sinner 
that does not pity himself. 



54 

if fallen under its burden ; how much more & 
man sinking under a load of sorrows ? 

I confess, uses of camfort to the unregener- 
ate are not (ordinarily) in use among us. and it 
may seem strange whence any thing of support 
should be drawn for them that have no special 
interest in Christ, or promises. 

I confess, also, 1 find myself under great dis- 
advantages for this work ; I cannot offer them 
those reviving cordials that are contained in 
Christ and the covenant, for God's afflicted 
people ; but yet, such is the goodness of God e- 
ven to his enemies, that they are not left whol- 
ly without supports, or means to allay their 
sorrow. 

If this, therefore, be thy case, who readesfc 
these lines ; a^Hicted and unsanctioned, mourn- 
ing bitterly for thy dead friends, and more 
cause to mourn for thy dead soul, christless and 
graceless, as well as chiidles or friendless : no 
comfort in hand, nor yet in hope ; full of troub- 
le, and no rent by prayer, or faith, to ease thy 
heart. 

Poor creature, thy case is sad, but yet do not 
wholly sink, and suffer thyself to de swallowed 
up of grief : thou hast laid thy dear one in the 






55 

grave, vet throw not thyself, headlong into the 
grave after him; that will not be the way to 
remedy thy misery : but to sit down a while, 
and ponder these three things. 

First, That of all persons in the *world 9 thou hast 
most reason to be tender over thy life, and health, and 
careful to preserve it: for if thy troubles destroy 
thee, thou art eternally lost, undone for ever. 
" Worldly sorrow (saith the apostle) works 
" death," it works thy damnation also ; for hell 
follows that pale horse, Rev. vi. 8. If a be- 
liever dies, there is no danger of hell to him, 
the second death hath no power over him : but 
woe to thee, if it overtake thee in thy sin : be- 
ware, therefore, what thou dost against thy 
health, and life ; do not put the candle of sor- 
row too near that thread by which thou hard- 
est over the mouth of hell. 

. O it is far better to be childless, or friendless 
on earth, than hopeless, remediless, in hell. 

Sccondy, Own and admire the bounty and 
goodness of God, manifested to thee in this af- 
fliction ; that v/hen death came into thy family 
to smite, and carry off one, it had not fallen to 
thy lot to be the person ; thy husband, wife, or 
child is taken, and thou art left ; had thy name 



56 

been in the commission, thou hadst now been 

past hope. 

O the sparing mercy of God ! the wonderful 

long suffering of God towards thee ! Possibly 

that poor creature that is gone, never provoked 

God as thou hast done ; thy poor child never 

abused mercies, neglected calls, treasured up the 

ten thousandth part of that guilt that thou 

hast done : so that thou rnightest well imagine 

it should rather have cut thee down, that hadst 

so provoked God, than thy poor little one. 

But, O the admirable patience of God ! O the 
riches of his long suffering ! Thou art only war- 
ned, not smitten by it : is there nothing in this ? 
worth thankful acknowledgment ? Is it not 
better to be in black for another on earth, than 
in the blackness of darkness for ever ? Is it not 
easier to go to the grave with thy dead friend, 
and weep there, than to go to hell among the 
damned, where there is weeping, wailing and 
gnashing of teeth ? 

Thirdly, this affliction, for which thou monrn- 
est, may be the greatest mercy to thee, that 
ever yet befell thee in this world. God hath 
now made thy heart soft by trouble, shewed 
thee the vanity of this wor!d ; and what a poor 



57 

trifle it is which thou madest thy happiness ; 
there is now a dark cloud spread over all thy 
worldly comforts. Now, O now ! if the Lord 
would but strike in with this affliction, and by 
it open thine eyes to fee thy deplorable state, 
and take off thy heart forever from the vain 
world, which thou now seest hath nothing in 
it i and cause thee to chuse Christ, the only a- 
biding good, for thy portion. If now thy af- 
fliction may but bring thy sin to remembrance, 
and thy dead friend may but bring thee to a 
sense of thy dead soul, which is as cold to God, 
and spiritual things, as his body is to thee ; and 
more Lathsoiiie in his eyes than that corpse is, 
or shortly will be to the eyes of men : then this 
day is certainly a day of the greatest mercy 
that ever yet thou sawest. O happy death, 
that shall prove life to thy soul. 

Why this is sometimes the way of the Lord 
with men, Job xxxvi. 8, 9. u If they be bound 
" in fetters and holden in cords of affliction, then 
" he sheweth them their work, and their trans- 
16 gression, that they have exceeded : he open- 
u eth, also, the^r ear to discipline, and comman* 
** deth them that they return from iniquity ." 

O consider, poor pensive creature, that which 



58 

stole away thy heart from God, is now gorce ; 
that which eat up thy time, and thoughts, that 
there was ho room for God, soul, or eternity, in 
them, is gone: all the vain expectations that 
thou raisedst up unto thyself, from that poor 
creature which now lies in the dust, are in one 
day quite perished. O what an advantage hast 
thou now for heaven, beyond whatever thou 
yet hadst! If God will but bless this rod, thou 
wilt have cause to keep many a thanksgiving- 
day for this day. 

I pray let these three things be pondered by 
you. I can bestow no more comforts upon you, 
your condition bars the best comforts from you, 
they belong to the people of God, and you have 
yet nothing to do with them. 

I shall therefore turn from you to them, and 
present some choicer comforts to them, to whom 
they properly belong, which may be of great 
use to you in reading, if it be but to convince 
you of the blessed privelege and state of the 
people of God in the greatest plunges of troub- 
les in this world, and what advantages their in- 
terest in Christ gives them for peace and settle- 
ment, beyond that state you are in. 

And here I do with much more freedom, and 



59 

hope of success, apply myself to the work of 
counselling, aud comforting the afflicted* You 
are the fearers of the Lord, and tremble at his 
word ; the least sin is more formidable to you, 
than the greatest affliction : doubtless you 
would rather chuse to bury all your children, 
than provoke and grieve your heavenly Father, 
Your relations are dear, but Christ is dearer to 
you by far. 

Well then; let me persuade you to retire a 

I while into your closets, redeem a little time 
from your unprofitable sorrows, ease and empty 
your hearts before the Lord, and beg his bless- 
ing upon the relieving, quieting, and heart-com- 
posing considerations that follow ; some of 

I which are more general and common, some 

more particular and special ; but all of them 

such as, through the blessing of God, may be 
very useful, at this time, to your souls. 

Consideration 1. Consider, hi this day of eor- 
tonv r nvJio is the framer, and autlior of this rod, by 
which you noiv smart ; is it net the Lord? And if 

I the Lord hath done it, it becomes you meekly to sub- 
mit. Psal, xlvi. 10. " Be still and know that 
P I am God." 

j Man and man stand upon even ground • if 

i ; 



60 

your^ fellow-creature does any thing that dis- 
pleases you, you may not only enquire who did 
it, but why he did it ? You may demand his 
grounds and reasons, for what he hath done; 
but you may not do so here : It is expected, 
that this one thing, The Lord hath done it, 
should, without any farther disputes, or con- 
tests, silence and quiet you, whatever it be 
that he hath done. Job xxxiii. 13. " Why 
" dost thou strive against him ? For he giveth 
" not an account of any of his matters." The 
Supreme Being must needs be an unaccounta- 
ble and uncontrolable being. 

It is a shame for a child to strive with his 
father ; a shame for a servant to contend with 
his master ; but for a creature to quarrel and 
strive with the God that made him, O how 
shameful is it ! Surely it is highly reasonable 
that you be subject to that will whence you 
proceeded, and that he who formed you, and 
yours, should dispose of both as seemed him 
good It is said, 2 Sam. iii. 36. " That what- 
u soever the king did, pleased all the people :" 
And shall any thing the Lord doth displease 
you ? He can do no wrong : If we pluck a rose 
in the bud, as we walk in our gardens, who 



61 

shall blame us for it ? It is our own, and we 
may crop it off when we please : Is not this the 
case ? Thy sweet bud, which was cropt Off be- 
fore it was fully blown, was cropt off by him 
that owned it, yea by him that formed it. If 
his dominion be absolute> sure his disposal should 
be acceptable. 

It was so to good Eli, 1 Sam. iii. 18. " It 
* is the Lord, let him do what seemeth him 
good : And it was so to David, Psal. xxxix. 9. 
" I was dumb, I opened not my mouth ; be- 
M cause thou didst it." O let it be forever re- 
" membered that he whose name is Jehovah, 
" is the most High over all the earth," Psalm 
Ixxxiii. 18, 

The glorious sovreignty of God, is illustri- 
ously aisplayed in two tilings, his decrees and 
his providences : With respect to the first, he 
saith, Rom. ix- 15. « c I will have mercy on 
" whom I will have mercy" Here is no 
ground of disputing with him ; for so it is said, 
ver. 20. " Who art thou, O man, that repliest 
M against God ? Shall the thing formed say to 
'" him that formed it, why hast thou made me 
" thus r" Hath not the potter power over the 
ciay ? 

F 



6.4 

And as to his providences, wherein his sove*. 
reignty is also manifested ; it is said, Zeeh. ii. 
14. " Be silent, O all flesh, before the Lord, for 
" he is raised up out of his habitation." It is 
spoken of his providential working in the chan- 
ges of kingoms, and desolations that attend 
them. 

Now, seeing the case stands thus, that the 
Lord hath done it ; it is his pleasure to have it 
so, and that if it had not been his will, it could 
never have been as it is ; he that gave thee 
(rather lent thee) thy relation, hath also taken 
him: O how quiet should this consideration 
leave thee ? If your landlord, who has many 
years suffered you to dwell in his house, does 
at last warn you out of it, though he tells you 
not why; you will not contend with him, or 
say he has done you wrong : Much less if he 
tells you it will be more for his profit, and ac- 
commodation, to take it into his own hand, 
than let it to you any longer. 

Doubtless reason will tell you, you ought 
quietly to pack up, and quit it. It is your great 
landlord, from whom you hold (at pleasure) 
your own, and your relations lives, that h^th 
now warned you out from one of them, it being 



63 

more for his glory, it may be, to take it into 
his own hands, by death ; and must you dispute 
the case with him ? 

Come, Christian, this no way becomes thee, 
but rather, " The Lord gave, and the Lord 
*< hath taken away and blessed be the name of 
u the Lord." Look off from a dead creature, 
lift up thine eyes to the sovereign, wise, and ho- 
ly pleasure that ordered this affliction : Consid- 
er who he is, and what thou art ; yea, pursue 
this consideration till thou canst say I am now* 
filled with the will of God. 

Consideration 2. Ponder well the quality of the 
comfort you are deprived of, and remember, that 
ivhenyou had it± it stood but in the rank and order 
of common and inferior comforts. 

Children and all other relations, are but com- 
mon blessings, which God indifferently bestows 
upon his friends, and enemies : and by the hav- 
ing or losing of them, no man knows either 
love or hatred. It is said of the wicked, Psalm 
IxxviL 14. that they are full of children; yea, 
and of children that do survive them too : for, 
they leave their substance to their babes. Full of sin, 
yet full of children, and these children live to 
inherit their parents sins and estates together. 



64 

It is the mistaking of the quality, and nature 
of our enjoyments, that so plunges us into 
trouble when we lose them. We think there is 
so necessary a connection betwixt these crea- 
tures, and nur happiness, that we are utterly un- 
done when they fail us. 

But this is our mistake; there is no such ne- 
cessary connection, or dependance; we may be 
happy without these things : It is not father, 
mother, wife, or child, in which our chief good 
and felicity lies ; we have higher, better, and 
more enduring things than these ; all these 
may perish, and yet our soul be secure and safe ; 
yea and our comfort in the way, as well as end, 
may be safe enough, though these are gone; 
God hath better things to comfort his people 
with, than these, and worse rods to afflict you 
with, than the removal of these. Had God let 
your children live, and flourish ; and given you 
ease and rest in your tabernacle, but in the mean 
time inflicted spiritual judgments upon your 
souls ; how much more sad had your case been ? 

But as long as our best mercies are all safe, 
the things that have salvation in them still re- 
main, and only the things that have vanity in 
them are removed ; you are not prejudiced, or 



65 

much hindered as to the attainment of your last 
end, by the loss of these things. 

Alas ! it was not Christ's Intent to purchase 
for you a sensual content in the enjoyment of 
these earthly comforts ; but to redeem you from 
all iniquity, purge your corruptions, sanctify 
your natures, wean your hearts from this vain 
world, and so to dispose and order your present 
condition, that, finding no rest and content here, 
you might the more ardently pant, and sigh af- 
ter the rest which remains for the people of 
God. And are you not in as probable a way 
to attain this end now, as you were before ? 
Do you think you are not as likely, by these 
methods of providence, to be weaned from the 
world, as by more pleasant and prosperous ones ? 
Every wise man reckons that station and con- 
dition to be the best for him, which most pro- 
motes, and secures his last end, and great de- 
sign. 

Well then, reckon you are as well without 
these things as with them ; yea, and better 
too, if they were but clogs and snares upon your 
affections; hou have really lost nothing, if the 
things wherein your eternal happiness consist- 
! eth be yet safe. Many of God's dearest chik 



dren have been denied such comforts as these, 
and many have been deprived of them, and 
yet never the farther from Christ, and heaven, 
for that. ; 

Consideration 3, Always remember, that how 
soon and unexpected soever your parting with your 
relations was 7 yet your lease was expired before 
you lost them 9 and you enjyed them every moment 
of the time that God Mended them for you* 

Before this relation, whose loss yoa lament, 
was born, the time of your enjoyment, and sep- 
aration, was unalterably fixed and limited in 
heaven, by the God of the spirits of all flesh : 
And although it was a secret to you, whilst 
your friend was with you ; yet now it is a 
plain and evident thing, that this was the time 
of separation before appointed ; and that the 
life of your friend could by rio means be pro- 
tracted, or abbreviated, but must keep you com- 
pany just so far, and then part with you. 

This position wants no full and clear scripture 
authority for its foundation : How pregnant 
and full is that text, Job xxiv. 5, fi. " Seeing 
" his days are determined, the number of his 
" months are with thee : thou hast appointed 
u him his bounds, which he cannot pass." 



67 

The time of our life, as well as the place of 
our habitation, was prefixed, before we was 
born. 

It will greatly conduce to your settlement, 
and peace, to be well established in this truth j 
that the appointed time was fully come, when 
you and your dear relation parted ; for it will 
prevent and save a great deal of trouble which 
comes from our after- reflections. 
O if this had been done ? or that omitted ; had 
it not been for such miscarriages, and over- 
sights, my dear husband, wife, or child, had 
been alive at this day ! No, no, the Lord's time 
was fully come, and all things concurred, and 
fell in together to bring about the pleasure of 
his will : let that satisfy you : Had the ablest 
physicians in the world been there, or had they 
that were there prescribed another course, as it 
is now, so it would have been when they had 
done all. Only it must be precautiened, that 
the decree of God no way excuses any volunta- 
ry, or sinful neglects, or miscarriage* . God o- 
ver-rules these things to serve his own ends, 
but no way approves them ; but it greatly re- 
lieves, against all our involuntary, and unavoid- 
able oversights and mistakes about the use of 



68 

means, or the timing of them ; for it could not 
be otherwise than now it is, *,, 

Objection. But many things are alledged a- 
gainst this position, and that with much seem- 
ing countenance from such scriptures as these- 
Psal. liv. 25. " Blood-thirsty men shall not 
" live out half their days," Ecclecs. vii. 1 8. 
" Why shouldst thou die before thy time." 
Psal. cii. 24. " O, my God, take me not a- 
* way in the midst of my days." Isa. xxvii. 
10. "I am deprived of the residue of my 
" years." And, Prov. x. 27. " The fear of 
" the Lord prolongeth days, but the years of 
" the wicked shall be shortened." It is deman- 
ded, what tolerable sense we can give these 
scriptures, whilst we assert an unalterable fixa- 
tion of the term of death. 

Solution. The sense of all these scriptures will 
be cleared up to full satisfaction, by distinguish* 
ing death, and the terms of it. 

First, We must distinguish death into 
Natural, and 
Violent, 
The wicked, and blood-thirsty man, shall not 
live out half his days; (i. e.) half so long as he 
might live, according to the course pf nature* 



69 

or the vigour, and soundness of his natural con- 
stitution ; for his wickedness either drowns na- 
ture in an excess of riot and luxury, or exposes 
him to the hand of justice, which cuts him off 
for his wickedness before he hath accomplished 
half his days. 

Again, we must distinguish of the term, or 
limit for death, which is either 
General, or 
Special. 

The general limits are now seventy, or eigh- 
ty years, Psal. xc. 19. " The days of our years 
'* are three score years and ten. and if by reason 
w of strength they are fourscore years, yet is 
" their strength labour and sorrow.'" To this 
short limit the life of man is generally reduced, 
since the flood ; and though there are some few 
exceptions, yet the general rule is not thereby- 
destroyed. 

The special limit is that proportion of time, 
which God, by his own counsel and will, hath 
allotted to every individual person ; and it is on- 
ly known to us by the event : This we affirm 
to be a fixed, and immoveable term; with it all 
things shall fall in, and observe the will of God 
in our dissolution at that time. But because 



TO 

the general limit is known, and this special lim- 
it hid in God's own breast ; therefore man reck- 
ons by the former account, and may be said, 
when he dies at thirty, or forty years old, to be 
cut off in the middle of his days : For it is so, 
reckoning by the general account, though he be 
not cut off till the end of his days, reckoning by 
the special limit. 

Thus he that is wicked, dies before his time ; 
(i. e.) the time he might attain to in an ordinary 
way ; but not before the time God hath ap- 
pointed : And so in all other objected script- 
ures. 

It is not proper at all, in a subject of this na- 
ture, to digress into a controversy . Alas ! the 
poor mourner, overwhelmed with grief, hath 
no pleasure in that ; it is not proper for \vm at 
this time, and therefore I shall, for the present, 
wave the controversy, and wind up this consid- 
eration with an humble, and serious motion to 
the afflicted, that they will wisely consider the 
matter. The Lord's time was come, your re- 
lations lived with you every moment that 
God intended them for you before you had 
them. 

O parents! mind this, I beseech you* 



11 

the time of your childs continuance in the 
womb, was fixed to a minute by the Lord ; and 
when the parturient fulness of that time was 
come, were you not willing it should be deliv- 
ered thence into the world ? The tender moth- 
er would not have it abide one moment long- 
er in the womb, how well soever she loved it ; 
and is there not the same reason we should be 
willing, when God's appointed time is come to 
have it delivered by death out of this state, 
which, in respect of the life of heaven, is but 
as the life of a child in the womb, to its life in 
the open world. 

And let none say the death of children is a 
premature death. God hath ways to ripen 
them for heaven, whom he intends to gather 
thither betimes, the which we know not : in 
respect of fitness, they die in a full age, though 
they be cut off in the bud of their time. 

He that appointed the seasons of the year, 
appointed the seasons of our comfort in our re- 
lations : And as those seasons cannot be altered, 
no more can* these. All the course of provi- 
dence is guided by an unalterable decree; what 
falls out casually to our apprehension, yet falls 
out necessarily in respect of God's appointment. 



72 

therefore be quieted in it, this must needs 
be as it is. 

Consider. 4. Hath God smitten your darling, 
and taken away the delight of your eyes wjth this 
stroke ? Bear this stroke with patience and quiet sub- 
mission i For how know you hut your trouble might 
have been greater from the life, than it is now from 
the death of your children ? 

Sad experience made a holy man once to say, 
It is better to weep for ten dead children, than 
for one living child ; A living child may prove 
a continual dropping, yea, a continual dying to 

the parent's heart. What a sad word was that 
of David to Abishai, 2 Sam. xvi. 1 1. « Behold. 
<fc (saith he) my son, which came out of my 
" howels, seeketh my life." I remember Sene- 
ca, in his consolatory epistle to his friend Ma- 
rulluSy brings in his friend thus aggravating 
the death of his child. 

1 O, (saith Marullus) had my child lived with 
6 me, to how great modesty, gravity, and pru- 
c dence, might my dicipline have formed and 
c moulded him ? But, saith * Seneca, (which is 
c more to be feared) he might have been as oth- 
' ers mostly are ; for look, (saith he) what chil- 

* Seneca's Epistles, p. 84* 



IB 

' dren come even out of the worthiest of fa mi- 
Mies; such who exercise both their own, and 
* ^ther lusts ; in all whose iiferthere is not a day 
< without the mark of some notorious wicked- 
' ness upon it.' 

I know your tender love to your children 
wiH scarce admit such jealousies of them: they 
are, for the present, sweet, lovely, innocent com- 
panions, and you doubt not but by your care of 
their education, and prayer for them they might 
have been the joy of your hearts. 

Why doubtless Esau, when he was little, 
and ^1 his tender age, promised as much com- 
fort to his parents as Jacob did ; and I question 
not but Isaac and Rebecca (a glorious pair) spent 
as many prayers, and bestowed as many holy 
counsels upon him, as they did upon his broth- 
er : But when the child grew up to riper years, 
then he became a sharp affliction to his parents ; 
for it is said, Gen. xxvi. 34. '• That when E- 
" sau was forty years old, he took to wife Ju- 
" dith the daughter of Berith the Ilittite, 
" which was a grief of mind to Isaac and Re- 
" becca," The word in the original comes from 



74 

a root that signifies to imbitter * : This child 
imbittered the minds of his parents by his re- 
bellion against them, and despising their coun- 
sels. 

And I cannot doubt but Abraham disciplined 
his family as strictly as any of you ; never man 
received a higher encomium from God, upon 
that account. Gen. xviii. 19. " I know him, 
" that he will command his children, and his 
si household, after him, and they shall keep the 
« way of the Lord." Nor can I think but he 
bestowed as many, and as frequent prayers for 
his children, and particularly for his son Ishma- 
el, as any of yoq : We find one, and that a ve- 
ry pathetical one, recorded, Gen. xvii. 18. " O 
" that Ishmael might live before thee :" And 
yet, you know how he proved, a son that yieh 
ded him no more comfort than Esau did to Ja- 
cob and Rebecca. 

O how much more common is it for parents 
to see the vices and evils of their children, than 
their virtues and graces ? And where one par- 
ent lives to rejoice in beholding the grace of 
God shining forth in the life of his child, there 
are twenty, it may be an hundred, that live to 

* Erant amartiudo anmu 



15 

behold, to their vexation and grief, the work- 
ing of corruption in them. 

It is a note of f Plutarch, in his morals, Ni- 
coles (saith he) lived not to see the noble vic- 
tory obtained by Themistocles, his son; nor 
Miltiades, to see the battle his son Cimon won 
in the field ; nor Zantippus, to hear his son Per- 
icles preach, and make orations, Ariston never 
heard his son Plato's lectures and disputations ; 
but men (saith he) commonly live to see their 
children fall a gaming, revelling, drinking, and 
whoring : Multitudes live to see such things to 
their sorrow. And if thou be a gracious soul, 
O what a cut would this be to thy very heart ! 
to see those (as David spake of his Absalom) 
that came out of thy bowels to be sinning a- 
gainst God, that God, whom thou lovest, and 
whose honour is dearer to thee than thy v,jry 
life ! 

But admit they should prove civil, and hope- 
ful children, yet mightest thou not live to see 
more misery come upon them than thou could- 
est endure to see ? O think what a sad and 
doleful sight v/as that to Zedekiah, Jer. I. 10. 

f Plutarch's Morals, p. 222. 



16 > 

li The king of Babylon brought his children, 
" and slew them before his eyes." Horrid spec 
taele ! and that leads to 

Consider. 5. How know you> but by this stroke 
which ycu so lament, God hath taken them away from 
the evil to come ? 

It is God's usual way, when some extraordin- 
ary calamities are coming upon the world, to 
hide some of his weak and tender ones out of the 
way by death, Isa Ivii. 1, 2. he leaves some 
and removes others, but taking care for the se- 
curity of alL He provided a grave for Methu- 
selah before the flood. The grave is an hiding 
place to some, and God sees it better for them 
to be under ground, than above ground, in such 
evil days. 

Just as a careful and tender father, who hath a 
son abroad at school, hearing the plague is bro- 
ken out in, or near the place, sends his horsq 
presently to fetch home his son, before the dan- 
ger and difficulty be greater. Death is our 
Father's pale horse, which he sends to fetch 
home his tender children, and carry them out 
of harm's way. ^ 

Surely when national calamities are drawing 
on, it is far better for our friends to be in the 



11 

grave in peace, than exposed to the miseries and 
distresses that are here, which is the meaning 
of Jer. xxii. 10. " Weep not for the dead, nei- 
" ther bemoan him ; bat weep for him that 
" goeth away, for he shali return no more, nor 
. " see his native country." 

And is there not a dreadful sound of troubles, 
now iii our ears ? Do not the clouds gather 
blackness? Surely all things round about us 
seem to be preparing and disposing themselves 
for affliction. The days may be nigh in which 
you shali say, " Blessed is the womb that never 
" bare, and the paps that never gave suck." 

It was in the day wherein the faith and pa- 
tience of the saints were exercised, that John 
heard a voice from heaven, saying to him, 
" Write, blessed are the dead which die in the 
" Lord from henceforth." 

Thy friend by an act of favour is disbanded 
by death, whilst thou thyself art left to endure 
a great fight of affliction. And now if troub- 
les come, thy cares and fears will be so much 
the less, and thy own death so much the easier 
to thee ; when so much of thee is in heaven al- 
ready. In this case the Lord, by a merciful 

G 

\ 



?8 

dispensation, is providing both for their safety, 
and thy own easier passage to them. 

In removing thy friends before- hand, he seems 
to say to thee, as he did to Peter, 1 John. xiii. 
T, " What I do thou knowest not know, 
" but thou shalt know hereafter." The eye 
of providence hath a prospect far beyond thine ,• 
probably it would be a harder task for thee to 
leave them behind, than to follow them. 

A tree that is deeply rooted in the earth, 
requires many strokes to fall it ; but when its 
roots are lossed before-hand, then an easy stroke 
lays it down upon the earth. 

Consider. 6. A parting time must needs come, 
and *why is not this as good as another ? You knew 
before-hand your chili or friend was mortal, 
and that the thread that linked you together 
must be cut. If any one, saith Basil, had asked 
you, ivhen your child was born, What is that 
which is born ? What would you have answer- 
ed ? Would you not have said, It is a man? 
And if a man, then a mortal, vanishing thing. 
And why then are you surprized with wonder 
%o see a dying thing dead ? 



He, saith * Seneca, who complains that one \$ 
dead, complains that he was a man. All men 
are under the same condition, to whose share 
it falls to be born, to him it remains to dte. 

We are indeed distinguished by the intervals, 
but equalized by the issue : " It is appointed to 
" all men once to die," Heb. ix. 27. There is 
a statute law of heaven in the case. 

Possibly you think this is the worst time for 
parting that could be ; had you enjoyed it lon- 
ger, you could have parted easier ; but how 
are you deceived in that ? The longer you had 
enjoyed it, the more loth still you would have 
been to leave it ; the deeper it would have root- 
ed itself in your affection. 

Had God given you such a privelege as was 
once granted to the English Parliament ; that 
the union betwixt you and your friend should 
not be dissolved till you yourself were willing it 
should be dissolved ,• when, think you, would 
you have been willing it should be dissolved ? 

It is well for us and ours* that our times are in 
God's hand, and not in our own. And how 

* Bear the law of necessity with an even 
mind. How many besides you rnust sorrow \ 
Scmca 7 Efistk 99. 



80 

immature soever it seemed to be when it was 
cut down ; yet it " came to the grave in a full 
4i age, as a shock of corn in its season," Job v. 
20. They that are in Christ, and in the cov- 
enant, never die unseasonably, whensoever they 
die (saith f one upon the text), ' They die in a 
' good old age ; yea, though they die in the 
< spring and flower of youth ; they die in a good 
6 old age; i. e. they are ripe for death whenever 
€ they die. Whenever the godly die, it is har- 
i vest time with him ; though in a natural capa- 
€ city he be cut down while he is green, and 
6 cropt in the bud or blossom ; yet in his spirit u- 
6 al capacity, he never dies before he is ripe; 
•" God can ripen his speedily, he can let out such 
' warm rays and beams of his spirit upon them, 
c as shall soon maturate the seeds of grace into 
' a preparedness for glory.' 

It was doubtless the most fit and seasonable 
time for them that ever they could die in, and 
as it is a fit time for them, so for you also. Had 
it lived longer, it might either have engaged you 
more, and so your parting would have been 
harder ; or else have puzzled and stumbled you 

f Caryl, on the place. 



81 

more by discovering its natural corruption : and 
then what a stinging aggravation of your sor- 
row would that have been ? 

Surely the Lord of time is the best judge of 
time ; and in nothing do we more discover our 
folly and rashness, than in presuming to fix the 
times either of our comforts or troubles ; as for 
our comforts, we never think they can come too 
soon ; we would have them presently, wheth- 
er the season be fit or not, as Numb. xii. 13. 
" Heal her now, Lord." O let it be done spee- 
dily ; we are in post-haste for our comforts, and 
for our afflictions, we never think they come 
late enough ; not at this time, Lord, rather at 
any other time than now. 

But it is good to leave the timing both of 
the one and the other to him, whose works are 
all beautiful in their seasons, and never doth a^ 
ny thing in an improper time. 

Consider* 7. Call to mind in this day of trouble, 
the covenant you ha<ve tojth Gcd> and what you sol- 
emnly promised him in the day you took him for your 
God, 

It will be very seasonable and useful for thee, 
Christian, at this time to reflect upon these 
transactions, and the frame of thy heart in those 



§2 

days, when an heavier load of sorrow prest thy 
heart, now than thou feelest. 

In those your spiritual distresses, when the 
burden of sin lay heavy, the curse of the law, 
the fear of hell, the dread of death and eterni- 
ty beset thee on every side, and shut thee up to 
Christ, the only door of hope ; ah ! what good 
news wouidst thou then have accounted it, to 
escape that danger with the loss of all earthly 
comforts ! 

Was not this thy cry in those days ? * Lord, 

* give me Christ, and deny me whatever else 

* thou pleasest. Pardon my sin, save my soul, 

* and in order to both, unite me with Christ, 
e and I will never repine or open my mouth. 
€ Do what thou wilt with me ; let me be friend- 
i less, let me be childless, let me be poor, let me 
« be any thing rather than a Christless, grace- 
6 less, hopeless soul. 

And when the Lord hearkened to thy cry 3 
and shewed thee mercy ; when he drew thee 
off from the world into thy closet, and there 
treated with thee in secret, when he was work- 
ing up thy heart to the terms of his covenant, 
and made the willing to accept Christ upon his 
own terms ; O then, how heartily didst thou sub- 



83 

mit to his yoke, as most reasonable and easy, as 
at that time it seemed to thee ? 

Call to mind these days, the secret places 
where Christ and you made the bargain ; have 
not these words, or words to this tense, been 
whispered by thee into his ear with a dropping 
eye, and melting heart ? 

4 J,ord Jesus, here am I, a poor guilty sinner, 

* deeply laden with sin ; fear and trouble upon 
'* one hand, and there is a just God, a severe law 

* and everlasting burnings, on the other hand : 
' but blessed be God, O blessed be God for Jesus 
i the Mediator, who interposeth betwixt me 
6 and it. Thou art the only door of hope at 

* which I can escape, thy blood the only means 
c of my pardon and salvation, Thou hast said, 
" Come unto me all ye that labour, and are hea- 
" vy laden." Thou hast promised, that he 

* that cometh to thee shall in no wise be cast 
f out. 

' Blessed Jesus, thy poor creature cometh to 

* thee upon these encouragements: I come, O 
'.but it is with many staggerings, with many 
f doubts and fears of the issue ; yet I am willing 
c to come and make a covenant with thee this 
' day. 



84 

< I take thee this day to be my Lord, and 
' submit heartily to all thy disposals ; do what 
' thou wilt with me, or mine, let me be rich or 
6 poor, any thing or nothing in this world : I 
4 am willing to be as thou wouldst have me, and 
< I do likewise give myself to thee this day, to 
6 be thine ; all I am, all I have shall be thine, 

* thine to serve thee, and thine to be disposed 
c of at. thy pleasure. Thou shalt henceforth be 

* my highest Lord, my chicfest good, my last 
i end.' 

Now, Christian, make good to Christ what 
thou so solemnly promised him : He, I say, he 
hath disposed of this thy dear relation, as pleas- 
ed him, and is thereby trying thy uprightness 
in the covenant which thou madest with him: 
Now where is the satisfaction and content thou 
pronXisedst to take in ail his disposals ? Where 
is that covenanted submission to his will ? 
Didst thou except this^flliction that is come 
upon thee. 

Didst thou tell him, Lord I will be content 
thou shalt, when thou pleasest, take any thing 
I have, save only this husband, this wife, or 
this dear child ; I reserve this out of the bar- 
gain ? I shall never endure that thou shouldst 



85 

kill this comfort. If so, thou didst in all this 
but prove thyself an hypocrite ; if thou wast 
sincere in thy covenant, as Christ had no re- 
serves on his part, so thou hadst none on thine. 

It was all without any exception thou then 
resignedst to him, and now wilt thou go back 
from thy word, as one that had out- promised 
himself, and repents the bargain : Or, at least, 
as one that hath forgotten these solemn trans- 
actions in the days of thy distress? Wherein 
hath Christ failed in one tittle that he promised 
to thee ? Charge him, if thou canst, with the 
least unfaithfuines ; he hath been faithful to a 
tittle on his part. O be thou so upon thine ; this 
day it is put to the proof, remember what thou 
hast promised him. 

Consider. 8. But if thy covenant w'rtfi God will 
not quiet thee, yet metfanh God's covenant <with 
iliee mi gltt be presumed to do it. 

Is thy family, which was lately hopeful, and 
flourishing, a peaceful tabernacle, now broken 
up and scattered ? Thy posterity, from which 
thou raisedst up to thyself great expectations of 
comfort in old age, cut off ? "So that thou art now 
like neither to have a name, or memorial left 
thee in the earth. 
H 



Dost thou sit alone, and mourn to think whith- 
erto thy hopes and comforts are now come ? 

Dost thou read over thqse words of Job, chap. 
xxix. ver. 1, 2, 3. 4, 5. and comment upon 
them with many tears ; " O that I were as 
v in months past, as in the day when God 
" preserved me ! when his candle shined upon 
" my head, and when by his light I walked 
" through darkness ! as I was in the days of my 
" youth, when the secret of God was upon my 
" tabernacle, when the Almighty was yet with 
" me, when my children were about me." 

Yet let the covenant God hath made with 
thee, comfort thee in this thy desolate condi- 
tion. 

You know what domestic troubles holy Da- 
vid met with in a sad succession, not only from 
the death of children, but, which was much 
worse, from the wicked lives of his children. 
There was incest, murder and rebellion in his 
family ; a far sorer trial than death in their in- 
fancy could have been : And yet see how sweet- 
ly he relieves himself from the covenant of grace, 
in 2 Sam. xxiii. 5. " Although my house be 
" not so with God, yet he hath made with me 
cl an everlasting covenant, ordered in all thing?. 



HI 

u and sure; for this is all my salvation, and all 
tl my desire, although he make it not to grow." 

I kow this place principally refers to Christ, 
who was to spring out of David's family, accord- 
ing to God's covenant made with him in that 
behalf; and yet I doubt not but it hath anoth- 
er, though less principal aspect upon his own 
family, over all the afflictions and troubles 
whereof the covenant of God with him did a- 
bundartfly comfort him. 

And as it comforted him, although his house 
did not increase, and those that were left were 
ijot such as he desired ; so it may abundantly 
comfort you also, whatever troubles, or deaths, 
are upon your families, who have an interest in 
the covenant. For, 

First, if you are God's covenant people, tho* 
he may afflict, yet he will never forget you, 
PsaL iii. 5. he is ever mindful of his covenant : 
You are as much upon his heart in your deep- 
est afflictions, as in the greatest flourish of your 
prosperity. 

You find it hard to forget your child, though 
it be now turned to a heap of corruption, and 
loathsome rottenness : O how doth your mind 
run upon it night and day ! your thoughts tire 



88 

not upon that object : Why surely it is much 
more easy for you to forget your dear child, 
whilst living, and most endearing, (much more 
when. dead and undesirable) than it is for your 
God to forget you, Isa. xliv. 15. " Can awo- 
" man forget her sucking child, that she should 
" not have compassion on the son of tier womb ? 
" Yea, they may forget, yet will not I forget 
*< thee." 

Can a woman, the more affectionate sex, for* 
get her sucking cKild^ her own child, and not a 
nursing child ? Her own child, whilst it hangs 
on the breast, and, together with the milk from 
the breast, draws love from its mother's heart: 
can such a thing as this be in nature? Possibly 
it may, for creature love is fickle, and variable : 
But, / will net forget thee : it is an everlasting 
covenant. 

Secondly, As he will never forget y@u in your 
troubles, so he will order all- your troubles for 
your good : It is a well ordered covenant, or ^cov- 
enant orderly disposed ; so that every thing 
shall work together for your good. 

The covenant so orders all your trials, ranks 
and disposes your various troubles so, as that 
they shall, in their orders and places, sweetly 



89 

co-operate, and join their united influences to 
make you happy. 

Possibly you cannot see how the present af- 
fliction should be for you good : you are ready 
to say, with Jacob, Gen, xiiii. 36. " Joseph is 
" not, and Simeon is not ; and ye will take Ben- 
" jamin away ; all these things are against 
" me." But could you once see how sweetly, 
and orderly all these things work under the bles- 
sing and influence of the covenant, to your e- 
ternal good, you would not only be quiet, but 
thankful for that which now so much afflicts 
and troubles you. 

Thirdly, This covenant is not only well order- 
ed in all things, but sure ; the mercies contained 
in it are called, " the sure mercies of David,'* 
Isa. Iv. 3. Now how sweet, how seasonable 
a support doth this consideration give to God's 
afflicted under the rod ! you lately made your- 
selves sure of that creature comfort which hath 
forsaken you. It may be, you said of your 
child, which is now gone, as Lamech said 'of 
his son Noah, Gen. y. 29, < ; This same shall 
"comfort us concerning our work, and toil of 
".our hands." Meaning, that his son should 
not only comfort them, by assisting them in 



the work of their hands, but also, in enjoying 
the fruit of their toil and pains for him. 

Probably such thoughts you have had, and 
raised up to yourselves great expectations of 
comfort in your old age from it ; but now you 
see you built upon the sand, and where were 
you now, if you had not a firmer bottom to build 
upon? But blessed be God, -the covenant-mer- 
cies are more sure, and solid ! God, Christ, and 
heaven, never start, or fade, as these things do. 
The sweetest creature-enjoyments you ever 
had or have in this world, cannot say to you ? 
as your God doth, " I will never leave thee a 
" nor forsake thee." You must part with you? 
dear husbands, how well soever you love them ; 
you must bid adieu to the wife of your bosom,, 
how nearly soever your affections be linked, 
and heart delighted in her. Your children and 
you must be separated, though they are to you 
as your own soul. 

But^ though these vanish away, blessed be 
God there is something that abides. « Though 
" all flesh be as grass, and the goodliness of it 
<* as the flower of the grass, though the grass 
" withereth, and the flower thereof fadeth, be- 
« cause the Spirit of the Lord bloweth upon it$ 



§1 

" yet the word of our God shall stand forever." 
Isa. xl. 6, 7, 8. There is so much of sup- 
port contained in this one consideration, that 
-could but your faith fix here, to realize and ap- 
ply it, 1 might lay down my pen at this peri- 
od, and say, the work is done, there needs no 
more. 

Consider. 9. The hope of the resut rectioa should 
powerfully restrain alt excesses of sorrow in those 
that do profess it. 

Let them on(y mourn without measure, who 
mourn without hope. The husbandman doth 
I siot mourn when he casts his seed-corn into the 
lr garth, because he sows in hope; commits it to 
the ground with an expectation to receive it a- 
gain with improvement. Why thus stands 
the case here, and just so the apostle states it, 
1 Thess. iv. 13, 14. " But I would not have 
< 4 you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them 
u which are asleep, that* ye sorrow not even as 
** others which have no hope ; for if we believe 
€i that Jesus died, and rose again, even so them 
" also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with 
" him." 

Q. d. Look not upon the dead as a lost gen- 
eration ; think not that death hath annihilated. 



92 

and utterly destroyed them : O no, they are not 
dead, but only asleep ; and if they sleep, they 
shall wake again. You do not use to make 
outcries and lamentations for your children, and 
friends, when you find them asleep upon their 
beds. Why, death is but a longer sleep, out of 
which they shall as surely awake, as ever they 
did in the morning in this world. 

I have often wondered at that golden sen- 
tence in Seneca *, ic My thoughts of the dead 
" (saith he) are not as others are ; I have fair 
" and pleasant apprehensions of them ; for I en- 
" joyed them as one that reckoned I must part 
" with them ; and I parted with them as one 
" that makes account to have them." 

He speaks, no doubt, of that enjoyment of 
them, which his pleasant contemplations of 
their virtuous actions could give him ; for he 
was wholly unacquainted with the comforta- 
ble, and heart- supporting doctrine of the resur- 
rection. Had he known the advantages which 
result thence, at what a rate may we think he 
would have spoken of the dead, and of their 
state ? But this you profess to believe, and yet 

* Habui enim illos tanquam amissuru? 5 ami- 
si, tanquam habeam, Sensca > £p* 63. 



S3 

<slnk at a strangs rate. O suffer not Gentilism 
to outvie Christianity ; let not Pagans challenge 
the greatest Believers, to out-do them in a qui- 
€t and cheerful behaviour under afflictions. 

I beseech thee, reader, if thy deceased friend 
have left thee any solid ground of hope that he 
died interested in Christ, and the covenant; 
that thou wilt distinctly ponder these admir- 
able supports which the doctrine of the resur- 
rection affords. 

First, That the same body which was so 
pleasant a spectacle to thee, shall be restored a,- 
gain; yea, the same numerically , as well as the 
same specifically ; so that it shall not ©niy be what 
it was, but the *wko it was. " These eyes shall 
M behold him, and not another," Job xix. 27. 
The very same body you laid, or are now about 
to lay in the grave, shall be restored again: 
Thou shalt find thine own husband, wife, oj 
child, or friend again j I say the self-same, and 
not another. 

Secondly, And farther, this is supporting, that 
as you shall see the same person that was so 
dear to you ; so you shall know them to be the 
same that were once endeared to you on earth 
in so near a tie of relation. 



Indeed you shall know them no more in any 
carnal relation, death dissolved that bond : But 
you shall know them to be such as once were 
your dear relations in this world, and be able to 
single them out among that great multitude, 
and say, this was my father, mother, husband, 
wife, or child ; this was the person for whom I 
wept, and made supplication, who was an in- 
strument of good to me, or t© whose salvation 
God then made me instrumental* 

For we may allow, in that state, all that 
knowledge which is cumulative and perfective^ 
whatsoever may enlargen and heighten our fe- 
licity and satisfaction, as this must needs be al- 
lowed to do. Luther's judgment, in this point, 
* being asked by his friends at supper the eve- 
ning before he died, replies thus, What (saithhe) 
lefel Adam ? He never saw Eve, but was in 
a deep sleep when God formed her ; yet when 
he awaked and saw her, he asked not what she 
was, nor whence she came ? But saith, she was 
flesh of his flesh, and bone of his bone. Now 
how knew he that ? He being full of the holy 
Ghost, and endued with the knowledge of God, 
spake thus ; after the same manner we also shall 

* Melchior Adam, in the life of Luther. ' 



95 

be in the oilier life renewed by Christ, and shall 
know our parents, our wives, and children. 

And this, among other things, was that with 
which f Augustine comforted the lady Italica, 
after the death of her husband, telling her that 
she should know him in the world to come, a* 
roong the glorified saints. Yea, and a greater 
than either of these, I mean Paul, comforted 
himself, that the Thessalonians, whom he had 
converted to Christ, should be " his joy and 
" crown of rejoicing, in the presence of the 
" Lord Jesus Christ at his coming," 1 Thess. ii. 
19, 20. which must needs imp?) his distinct 
knowledge of them in that day, which must be 
many hundred years after death hath separated 
them from each other. Whether this knowl- 
edge shall be by the glorified eyes discerning a* 
ny lineaments, or property of individuation, re- 
maining upon the glorified bodies of our rela- 
tions ; or whether it shall be by immediate rev- 
elation, as Adam knew his wife, or as Peter, 
James, and John, knew Moses and Elias in the 
mount ; and it is difficult to determine, so it is 
to puzsle ourselves about it. 

f Aug. Ep» 6. 



It is the concurrent judgment of sound di- 
vines, and it wants not countenance from scrip- 
ture and reason, that such a knowledge of them 
shall be in heaven ; and then the sadness of this 
parting will be abundantly recompensed by the 
joy ©ft t meeting, Especially considering, 

Thirdly, That at our next meeting, they shall 
be unspeakably more desirable, sweet and excel- 
lent, than ever they were in this world. They 
had a desirableness in them here, but they were 
not altogether lovely, and, in every respect, 
desirable ; they had their infirmities, both nat- 
ural and moral ; but all these are removed in 
heaven, and for ever done away : No n&tonil 
infirmities hang about glorified bodies, or sinfoi 
ones upon perfected spirits of the just. O what 
lovely creatures will they appear to you their, 
when that which is now sown in dishonour/ 
shall be raised in honour ! 2 Cor. xv. 43. And 
then, to crown all, 

Fourthly, You shall have an everlasting enjoy- 
ment of them in heaven, never to part again- 
The children of the resurrection can die no 
more, Luke xx. 36. yon shall kiss their pale lips, 
and cold cheeks, no more : you shall never fear 
another parting pull, but be together with the 



97 

Lord forever, 1 Thess. iv. 14. And this the 
apostle thought an effectual cordial in this case 
when he exhorted the Thessaionians to " com- 
" fort one another with these words." 

Consid. 1 0. The present felicity into which all 
that die in Christ are presently admitted, should abun- 
dantly comfort Christians over the death of such as 
either carried a lively hope out o/ the world with 
them, or have left good grounds of such an hope behind 
them. 

Such there are, that carried a lively hope to 
heaven with them, who could evidence to 
themselves and friend^, their interest in Christ, 
and in the covenant : Yea, though they had 
died in silence, yet their conversations would 
speak for them, and the tenor of their lives leave 
no ground of doubting touching their death: 
Others dyi g in their infancy and youth, though 
they carried not saeh an actual hope with diem, 
yet they have left good grounds of hope behind 
them. 

Parents, now ponder these grounds ; you have 
prayed for them, you have many times wrest- 
lei with the Lord on their behalf ; you have ta- 
ken hold of God's covenant for them, as well 
as for yourselves, and dedicated them to the 
T 



98 

Lord ; and they have not, by any actions of 
theirs, destroyed those grounds of your hope, 
but that thou may with much probability, con- 
clude, they are with God. 

Why, if the case be so, what abundant reason 
have you to be quiet, and well satisfied with 
what God hath done ? Can they be better 
than where they are ? Had you better provis* 
ions and entertainment for them here than their 
heavenly father hath above. 

There is no Christian parent in the world, 
but would rejoice to see his child outstrip and 
get before him in grace, that he may be more 
eminent in parts and service, than ever he was ; 
And what reason can be given, why we should 
not as much rejoice to see our children get be- 
fore us in glory, as in grace ? They are gotten 
to heaven a few years before you, and is that 
matter of mourning ? Would not your child 
(if he were not ignorant of you) say, as Christ 
did to his friends, a little before his death, when 
he saw them cast down at the thoughts of 
parting, John xiv. 28. " if ye bved me, ye 
" would rejoice, because I go unto the Father." 
Q. d* Do you value your own sensible comfort, 
from my bodily presence with you before my 



99 

glory and advancement in heaven ? Is this 
love to me ? Or is it not rather self-love ? 

So would your departed friend say to you : 
< You have professed much love all along to 
6 me, my happiness seemed to be very dear to 
' you. How comes it to pass, then, that you 

* mourn so exceedingly now ? This is rather 
' the effect of a fond and fleshly, than of a ra- 

* tional and spiritual love ; if you loved me with 
i a pure spiritual love, ye would rejoice that I 

* am gone to my Father. It is infinitely bet- 
' ter for me to be here, than with you on earth, 
4 under sin and sorrow. Weep not for me but 
' for yourselves.' 

Alas ! though you want your friend's compa- 
ny , he wants not yours ; your care was to pro- 
vide for this child, but Jesus Christ hath provi- 
ded infinitely better for it than you could ; you 
intended an estate, but he a kingdom for it ; 
you thought upon such or such a match, but 
Christ hath forbidden all others, and married 
your child to himself. Would you imagine a 
higher preferment for the fruit of your bodies ? 

A King from heaven hath sent for you* 
friend, and do you grudge at the journey ? O 
think, and think again, what an honor it is to 



100 

you, that Christ hath taken them out of your 
bosom, and laid them in his own ; stript them 
out of those garments you provided, and cloth- 
ed them in white robes, washed in the blood of 
the Lamb. Let not your hearts be troubled, 
rather rejoice exceedingly, that God made you 
instruments to replenish heaven, and bring forth 
an heir for the kingdom of God. 

Your child is now glorifying God, in an high- 
er way than you can, and what though you 
have lost its bodily presence for a while ; yet, I 
hope, you do not reckon that to be your loss, 
which turns to God's greater glory. 

When Jacob heard his Joseph was lord of 
Egypt, he rather wished himself with Joseph, 
than his Joseph with him in wants and straits; 
so should it be with you : You are yet rolling 
and tossing upon a tempestuous sea, but your 
friend has gone into the quiet harbor;, desire 
rather to be there> than that he were at sea 
>yith you again. 

Consider. 11. Consider honv vain a tiling all 
your troubles, and self -vexation is ; jt no <way let- 
ters your case y nor eases your burden. 

As a bullock, by wrestling and sweating in 
the furrow, makes his yoke to be more heavy, 



101 



and galls his neck, and spends his strength the 
sooner, and no ways helps himself by that i 
Why thus stands the case with thee ; if thou 
be as a bullock unaccustomed to the yoke, what 
Christ saith of caring, we may say of grieving, 
(Matt. vi. 27.) " Which of you, by taking 
" thought, can add one cubit to his stature ?" 

Cares may break our sleep, yea, break our 
hearts, but they cannot add to our stature, ei- 
ther in a natural, or in a civil notion : So our 
sorrowing may sooner break our hearts, than 
the yoke God hath laid on you. 

Alas ! what is ail this, but as the fluttering 
of a bird in the net, which instead of freeing, 
doth but the more entangle itself. It was there- 
fore a wise resolutbn of David, in this very 
case, when the will of God was signified in the 
death of his child, 2 Sam. xii. 23. « But now 
*< he is dead, wherefore should I fast ? Can I 
(i bring him back again ? I shall go to him, but 
« he shall not return to me." 

Can I bring him back again ? No ; I can no 
more alter the purpose, and work of God, than 
I can change the seasons of the year, or alter the 
course of the sun, moon, and stars, or disturb the 
order of the day and night y which are all un- 



i 



102 

alterably established by a firm constitution, and 
ordinance of heaven. 

As these seasons cannot be changed by man, 
so neither can this course and way of his provi- 
dence be changed. Job xxiii. 13. " He is of 
" one mind, and who can turn him ? And 
" what his soul desireth, even that he doth." 
Indeed while his pleasure and purpose are un- 
known to us, there is room for tasting and pray- 
er, to prevent the thing we fear : But when 
the purpose of God is manifested in the issue, 
and the stroke is given, then it is the vainest 
thing in the world to fret, and vex ourselves, as 
David's servants thought he would do, as soon 
as he heard the child was dead : But he w&s wi- 
ser than so, his tears and cries to God before, 
had the nature and use of means to prevent the 
affliction ; bat when it was come, and could 
not be prevented, then they were of no use, to 
no purpose in the world : " Wherefore should 
" I fast ?" ,0. d. To what end, use, or purpose, 
will it be now ? 

Well, then, cast not away your strength and 
spirits, to no advantage ; reserve them for fu- 
ture exercises and trials: Time may come, that 
you may need all the strength you have, an£ 



103 

much more, to support greater burdens than 
this. 

Consider^ 1 2. The Lord is able to restore all your 
lost comforts In relations, double to you, If you meekly 
submit to hhn 9 and patiently wait upon Aim under 
the rod. 

When Esau had lost his blessing, he said, 
" Hast thou but one blessing, my Father ?" 
Gen. xxvii. 38« But your Father bath more 
blessings for you than one ; his name is the 
"Father of mercies," 2 Cor. xiii. 11. He can 
beget, and create, as many mercies for you as he 
pieaseth; relations, and the comforts of them, 
are at his command. 

It is but a few months, or years past, and 
these comforts, whose loss you now lament, 
were not in being ; nor did you know whence 
they should arise to you, yet the Lord gave the 
word, and commanded them for you ; and, if he 
please, lie can make the death of these but like 
a scythe to the meadow that is mown down, 
or a razor to the head that is shaved bare ; 
which, though it lay you under the present 
trouble and reproach of barrenness, yet doth but 
make way for a double increase, a second spring, 
with advantage. 



104 

So that even as it was with the captive 
church, in respect of her special children, in the 
day of her captivity and reproach, the t Lord 
made up all with advantage to her, even to her 
own astonishment. Isa. xliii. 20. " the chil- 
" dren which thou shalt have, after thou hast 
" lost the other, shall say again in thine ear, 
" the place is too strait for me: Give place to 
u me that I may dwell." 

Thus may he deal with you, as to your nat- 
ural children, and relations ; so that what the 
man of God said to Amaziah, 1 Chron. xxv. 9, 
may be applied to the case in hand. " Amazi- 
" ah said to the man of God, but what shall we 
u do for the hundred talents? And the man of 
" God answered, the Lord is able to give thee 
" much more than this." 

O say not, What shall I do for friends anc 
relations ? Death hath robbed me of all comfort 
in them. Why, the Lord is able to give thee 
much more. But then, as ever you expect to 
see your future blessings multiplied, look to it, 
and be careful that you neither dishonour God, 
nor grieve him, by your unsubmissive, and im- 
patient carriage, under the present rod. 

God took away all Job's children, and that at 



105 

one atroke, and the stroke immediate and ex- 
traordinary, and that when they were grown 
up, and planted (at least some of them) in dis- 
tinct families ; yea whilst they were ind earing 
each other by mutual expressions of affection. 
This must be yielded to be an extraordinary tri- 
al, yet he meekly receives, and patiently bears 
it from the hand of the Lord. 

You have heard of the patience of Job, (saith 
the apostle, James v. 11.) " and seen the 
" end of the Lord." Not only the gracious 
end, or intention of the Lord in all his afflic- 
tions, but the happy end and issue the Lord 
gave to all his afflictions, of which you have 
the account, xlii. 10. " The Lord gave Job 
" twice as much as he had before." The num- 
ber of his children was not double to what he 
had, as all his other comforts were : But though 
the Lord only restored the same number to him 
again that he took away, yet it is likely the 
comfort he had in these latter children was 
double to what he had in the former. There 
is nothing lost by waiting patiently, and sub- 
mitting willingly to the Lord's dispose. 

It is as easy with the Lord to revive, as it is 
to remove your comforts in relations. There 



106 

is a sweet expression to this purpose, in Psal- 
Ixxxi. 28. " For thou, Lord, will light my can- 
" die, the Lord my God will enlighten my dark- 
i( ness." 

Every comfortable enjoyment, whether it be 
in relations, estate, health, or friends, is a can- 
dle lighted by providence for our comfort in this 
world, and they are but candles, which will not 
always last ; and those that last longest will be 
cousumed and wasted at last : but oftentimes it 
falls out with them as with candles, they are 
Mown out before they are half consumed ; yea, 
almost as soon as lighted up, and then we are 
in darkness for the present. 

It is a dark hour with us, when these com- 
forts are put out ; but David's faith did, and ours 
may comfort us with this, that he that blew 
out the candle, can light up another : " Thou, 
<s Lord, shalt light my candle, the Lord my 
« God shall enlighten my darkness." That is, 
the Lord will renew my comforts, alter the 
present sad estate I am in, and chase away that 
trouble and darkness which at present lies upon 
me : Only bewa re of offending him, at whose 
beck your lights and comforts coma and go. 
Michal displeased the Lord, and therefore had 



107 

no child unto the day of her death, 2 Sam. vL 
23. 

Hannah waited humbly upon the Lord for 
the blessing of children, and the Lord remem- 
bered her; he enlightened her condition with 
that comfort, when she was as a lamp despised. 
There is no comfort you have lost but God can 
restore it, yea, double it, in kind, if he sees it 
convenient for you. And if not, then, 

Consider. 1 3. Consider, though he should deny you 
any more comforts of thai hind, yet he hath far. hettre 
to bestow upon you, such as these deserve not to be 
named with* 

You have an excellent Scripture to this pur, 
pose, in Isa. Ivi. 4, 5. " For thus saith the 
" Lord unto the eunuchs that keep my sab- 
I " baths ; and chuse the things that please me, 
" and take hold of my covenant ; even to them 
« willl give in my house, and within my walls, 
" a place, and a name better than of sons and 
" daughters ; I will give them an everlasting 
44 name, that shall not be cut off." 

Mens names are to be continu- 

See English ed in their issue, in their 

Annotations on malei ssue, especially, and con* 

the place. sequently to fail in such 

as wanted issue, Num. xvil 



108 

4. and a numerous issue is deemed no small hon- 
our, Psal. cxxvii. 4, 5. God therefore promised 
here to suppiy, and make good the want of is- 
sue, and whatsoever, either honour here, or 
memorial hereafter, might from it have accru- 
ed to them, by bestowing upon them matter 
of far greater honour, and more durable ; a name 
better, or before the names of sons or daught- 
ers. 

It is a greater honour to be the child of God, 
than to have the greatest honour or comfort, that 
ever children afforded their parents in thi$ 
world. 

A cloud dwells upon all other comforts, this 
affliction hath so imbittered thy soul, that thou 
tastest no more in any other earthly comforts, 
than in the white of an egg O that thou didst 
but consider the consolations that are with God 
for such as answer his ends in affliction, and pa- 
tiently wait on hi in for their comfort ! he hath 
comforts for you far transcending the joy of 
children. 

Poor heart, thou art now dejected by this af- 
fliction that lies upou thee, as if all joy and com- 
fort were now cut off from thee in this world. 

This some have found when their children 
have been cut off from them, and that in so em~ 



109 

inent a degree, that they have little valued their 

comfort in children, in comparison with this 

comfort, 

I will therefore set down a pregnant instance 

of the point in hand, as I find it r , irir . r 
r Fulfilling of 

recorded by the grave and worthy j7 

J & J the scripture, 

author of that excellent book, in- ^ An1 

p. 49 !• 

tituled, The fulfilling of the Scripture. 

Another notable instance of grace, with % 
very remarkable passage in his condition, I shall 
here mention. i One Patrick MackewrMh, 
f who lived in the west parts of Scotland, whose 

* heart in a remarkable way, the Lord touched, 

* and after his conversion (as he shewed to ma- 

* ny Christian friends) was in such a frame, so 
' affected with a new world, wherein he was 

* entered, the discoveries of ©od, and of a life 
« to come ; that for some months together he 
f did seldom sleep, but was still taken up in 

< wondering. His life was very remarkable for 
j £ tenderness, and near converse with God in his 
j«walk; and, which was worthy to be no- 

< ted, one day, after a sharp trial, having his 
1 only son suddenly taken away by death, he 

* retired alone for several hours, and when he 
I, came forth did look so cheerfully, thatto those 

K 



110 



* who asked him the reason thereof, and won. 
« dered at the same in such a time ; he told them 
6 he had got that in his retirement with the Lord, 
« that to have it afterwards renewed, he would 
« be content to lose a son every day.* 

O what a sweet exchange had he made! 
Surely he had got gold for brass, a pearl for a 
pebble, a treasure for a trifle ; for so great, yea, 
and far greater is the disproportion betwixt the 
sweet light of God's countenance, and the faint, 
dim light of the best creature-enjoyment. 

Would it please the Lord to make this sun 
arise and shine upon you, now when the stars 
that shined with a dim and borrowed light are 
gone down, you would see such gain by the 
exchange, as would quickly make you cast in i 
your votes with him we now mentioned, and 
say, Lord, let every day be such as this funeral 
day ; let all my hours be as this, so that I may 
see and taste what I now do. How gladly 
would I pait with the dearest, and nearest crea- 
ture-comfort I own. in this world- The gra- 
cious and tender Lord hath his divine cordials 
reserved on purpose for such sad hours; these 
are sometimes given before some sharp trial, to 
prepare for it, and sometimes after, to support 
under it. 



Ill 

I have often heard it from the mouth, ani 
found it in the diary of a sweet Christian now 
wth God, that a little before the Lord remo- 
ved her husband by death, there was such an 
abundant outlet of the love of God unto her soul, 
1 for several days and nights following, that when 
i the Lord took away her husband by death, 
5 though he was a gracious and sweet tempered 
I (and by her most tenderly beloved) husband ; 
she was scarce sensible of the stroke, but carri- 
| ed quite above all earthly things, their comfortt, 
and their troubles : So that she had almost lost 
I the thoughts of her dear husband in God. And 
had not the Lord taken this course with her, 
she concluded that blow had not been possible 
to be borne by her, she must have sunk with 
Out sush a preparative. 

A husband, a wife, a child, are great, very 
great things, as they stand by other creatures; 
but surely they will seem little things, and next 
to nothing, when the Lord shall set himself by 
them before the soul. 

And how know you, but God hath bidden 
these earthly comforts stand aside this day, to 
make way for heavenly ones ? It may be, God 
is coming to communicate himself more sweetly. 



112 

more sensibly than ever to your souls; and 
these are the providences which must cast up, 
and prepare the way of the Lord. Possibly 
God's meaning in their death is but this ; child, 
stand aside, thou art in my way, and fiilest my 
place in thy parents heart. 

Consider. 14. Be careful you exceed not in your 
oriej for the Uss of earthy things, emsidenng that 
Satan takes the advantage of all extremes. 

Satan is called, The ruler of the darkness of this 
*wcr>:d, Eph. vi. 12. (i. e.) his kingdom is sup- 
ported by darkness. Now, there is a twofold 
darkness, which gives Satan great advantage; 
the darkness of the mind, viz. ignorance ; and 
the darkness of the condition, viz. trouble and 
affliction. Of the former the apostle speaks 
chiefly in that text ; but the latter also is by bim 
often improved, to carry on his designs with 
us, when it is a«dark hour of trouble with us, 
then is his fittest season to tempt. 

That cowardly spirit falls upon the people 
of God, when they are down and low in spirit, 
as well as state. Satan would never have desir- 
ed that the hand of God should have been stretch- 
ed out upon Job's person, estate, and children, 
"but that he promised himself a notable a-dvan- 



113 

tage therein, to poison his spirit with vite 
thoughts of God. " Do this (saith he) and ht 
" will curse thee to thy face." 

What the Psalmist observes of natural, is 33 
true of metaphorical darkness, Psah civ. 20. 
** Thou makest darkness, and it is night where- 
i: in all the beasts of the forest do creep forth, 
" the young lions rear after their prey." 

When it is dark night with men, it is noon- 
day with Satan ; u e. our suffering time is his 
busiest working time; many a dismal suggest- 
ion he then plants, and grafts upon your afflic- 
tion, which are much more dangerous to us than 
the affliction itself. 

Sometimes he injects desponding thoughts 
into|the afflicted soul ; " Then said I, I am cut off 
" from before thine eyes," Psal. xxi. 22. and 
Lam. iii. 18, 19. " My hope is perished from 
& the Lord, remembring my affliction, and my 
" misery, the wormwood and the gall." 

Sometimes he suggests hard thoughts of God. 
Rwth i. 20, « The Lord hath dealt very fitter* 
« ly with me." Yea, that he hath dealt more 
severely with us, than any other, Lam. i. 12. 
" See and behold, if there be any sorrow li e 
" unto my sorrow, which is doae unto mfy 



114 

" wherewith the Lord hath afflicted me in the 
" day of his fierce anger." 

And sometimes murmuring and repining 
thoughts against the Lord ; the soul is displeas- 
ed at the hand of God upon it. Jonah was an- 
gry at the hand of God, and said, " I do well 
" to be angry even unto death," Jonah iv. 9. 
what dismal thoughts are these ? And how 
much more afflictive to a gracious soul, than the 
loss of any outward enjoyment in this world. 

And sometimes very irreligious and atheistical 
thoughts, as if there were no privilege to be 
had by religion, and all our pains, zeal, and care 
about duty, were little better than lost labour, 
PsaL Ixxiii. 13, 14. " Verily 1 have cleansed 
*'■ my heart in vain, and washed my hands in 
41 innoceBcy ; for all the day long I have 
"been plagued, and chastened every morning." 

By these things Satan gets no small advan- 
tage upon the afflicted Christian : for albeit these 
thoughts are his burthen, and Ged will not im- 
pute them to the condemnation of his people ; 
yet they rob the soul of peace, and hinder it 
from duty, and make it act uncomely under af- 
fliction, to the stumbling and hardning of oth- 
ers in their sin : beware therefore, lest by your 



115 

excesses of sorrow ye give place to tho devil ; 
v/e are not ignorant of his devices. > 

Consid. \ 5. Give no way to excessive sorrmvi 
upon the account of affliction, If ye have any regard to 
the honour of God, and religion , which will hereby 
he e posed to reproach. 

If you slight your own honor, do not slight 
the honor of God, and religion too ; take heed 
how you carry it in a day of trouble ; many eyes 
are upon you. It is a true observation that a 
late worthy * author hath made upon this 
case : * What will the Atheist, and what will 
4 the profane scoffer say, when they shall see 
c this ? So sottish and malicious they are, that if 
' they do but see you in affliction, they are 

* straightway scornfully demanding, Where is 

* you God ? 

4 But what would they say, if they should 
' hear you yourselves unbelievingly cry out, 
1 Where is our God ? Will they not be ready to 
1 cry, this is the religion they make such boast of, 
6 which you bee how little it does for them in 

* a day of extremity : they talk of promises, rich 
i and precious promises ; but where are they 

* M. M. his appendix to Solomon's prescrip- 
tion, p. 122. 



U6 

miow? Or to what purpose do they serve? 
' They said they had a treasure in heaven ; what 
* ails them to mourn so, then, if their riches are 
« there ?' 

O beware what you do before the world; 
they have eyes to see what you can do, as well 
as ears to hear what you can say : and as long 
as your carriage under trouble is so much like 
their own they will never think your princi- 
ples are better than theirs. Carnal worldlings 
will be drawn to think, that whatever fine talk 
you might have about God, and heaven, your 
hearts were most upon the same things that 
theirs were, since your grief for their removal is 
as great as theirs. 

They know by experience what a stay it is 
to the heart, to have an able, faithful friend to 
depend upon, or to have hopes of a great estate 
shortly to fall to them \ and they will never 
be persuaded you have any such ground of com* 
fort, if they see you as much cast down as they 
that pretend to no such matter. 

By this means the precepts of Christ to con- 
stancy and contentment in all estates, will come 
to be looked upon (like those of the stoics) only 
as magnified verba, brave words ; but such as are 



117 

impossible to be practised ; and the whole of the 
gospel will be taken for an airy notion, 'since 
they that profess greatest regard to it, are no 
more helped thereby. 

O what a shame is it that religion should, in 
this case, make no more difference betwixt man 
and man ! wherefore shew to the world (what- 
ever their common censures are) that it is not 
so much your care to differ from them in some 
opinions, and a little strictness, as in humility, 
meekness, contempt of the world, and heavenly. 
Handedness ; and now let these graces display 
themselves by your cheerful, patient deport- 
ment under all your grievances. 

Wherefore hath God planted those excellent 
graces in your souls ; but that he might be glo- 
rified, and you benefited by the exercises of them 
in tribulation ; should these be suppressed and 
hid, and nothing but the pride, passion, and un- 
modified earthliness of your hearts set on work, 
and discovered in time of trouble, what a slur, 
what a wound will you give to the glorious 
name which is called upon by you ? And then 
if your hearts be truly gracious, that will pierce 
you deeper than ever your affliction, which oc- 
casioned it, did. 



118 

I beseech you, therefore, be tender of the 
name of God, if you will not be so of your own 
peace and comfort. 

Consid • 16. Be quiet, and hold your feace^ you 
little know ho*w many mercies Vie in the e wQ?n6 of this 
affliction. 

Great are the benefits of a sharp, roozing af- 
fliction t<* the people of God at sometimes, and 
all might have them at all times, were they 
more careful to improve them. Holy David 
thankfully acknowledged, Psal. cxix. 71. " It 
« is good for me that I have been afflicted." 

And surely there is as much good in them 
for you as for him ; if the Lord sanctify them 
to such ends, and uses, as his were sanctified 
unto. 

Such a smarting rod as this, came not before 
there was need enough of it, and possibly you 
saw the need of some awakening provi- 
dence yourselves : but if not, the Lord did : 
he took not up the rod to smite you, till his 
faithfulness, and tender love to your souls, call- 
ed upon him to correct you. 

You now sit pensive under the rod, sadly la- 
menting and deploring the loss of some earthly 
comfort; your heart is surcharged with sorrow, 



119 

your eyes run down upon every mention, and 
remembrance of your dead friend : why, if there 
were no more, this alone may discover the 
need y*u had of this rod ; for doth not all this 
sorrow at parting plainly speak how much your 
heart was set upon, how fast your heart was 
glewed to this earthly comfort ? 

Now you see that your affections were sunk 
many degrees deeper into the creature, than you 
are aware of: and what should God do in this 
case by you ? Should he suffer you to cleave to 
the creature, more and more? Should he per- 
mit it to purloin, and exhaust your love and de- 
light, and steal away your heart from himself ? 
This he could not do, and love you. The more 
impatient you are, under this affliction, the 
more need you had of it. 

And what if by this stroke the Lord will a- 
waken your drowzy soul, and recover you out 
of that pleasant, but dangerous spiritual slumber 
you were fallen into, whilst you had pillowed 
your head upon this pleasant, sensible creature- 
enjoyment ? is not this really better for you^ 
than if he should say, Sleep on : he is joined to 
idols, let him alone ; he is departing from me, 
the fountain^ to a broken cistern ; let him go. 



120 

Yea* what if by this stroke upon one of the 
pleaeantest things you had in this world, God 
will dsscover to you, more sensibly and effectu- 
ally than ever, the vanity both of that and all 
earthly comforts, so as that you shall from hence- 
forth never let forth your heart, your hope, your 
love, and delight to any of them, as you did be- 
fore ? You could talk before of the creatures 
vanity, but I question whether ever you had so 
clear, and convincing a sight of its vanity, as 
you have this day ; and is not this a considera- 
ble mercy in your eyes ? 

Now, if ever God is weaning you from all 
fond opinions, and vain expectations from this 
world ; by this your judgment of the creatures is 
rectified, and your affections to all other enjoy- 
ments on earth moderated: and is this nothing ? 
O doubtless it is a greater mercy to you, than 
to have y»ar friend alive again. 

And what if by this rod your wandering, 
heart shall be whipped home to god ? Your 
neglected duties revived? Your decayed com- 
munion with God restored ? A spiritual hea- 
venly frame of heart recovered ? What will 
you say then ? 

Surely you will bless that merciful hand 



; 



121 

which removed the obstructions, and adore the 
Divine wisdom, and goodness, that by such a 
device as this recovered you to himself. Nov/ 
you can pray more constantly, more spiritually, 
more affectionately than before. O blessed rod, 
which buds and blossoms with such fruits as 
these ! Let this be written among your best 
mercies, for you shall have cause to adore and 
bless God eternally for this beneficial afflic- 
tion. 

Consider. 17. Suffer not yourselves to be trans- 
ported by impatience ', and s%vallo c wed up of grief \ be- 
cause G&d hath exercised you under a mart rod ; for, 
as smarting as it is, it is comparatively a gentle 
stroke to what others, as good as ourselves, have felt. 

Your dear relation is dead ; be it so, here is 
but a single death before you,, but others have 
seen many deaths contrived into one upon their 
relations, to which yours is nothing. 

Zedekiah saw his children murdered before 
his eyes, and then had those 

The fulfil ling eyes (alas! too late) put out, 
of the scrip- The worthy author of that 
turn. excellent book before-mention- 

ed, tells us of a choice, and 
godly gentlewoman in the north of Ireland ^ 
L 



122 

who, when the rebellion broke out there, fled 
with three children, one of them upon the breast : 
t.hey had not gone far before they were strip- 
ped naked by the Irish, who to their admira- 
tion, spared their lives, (it is like, concluding 
that cold and hunger would kill them) after- 
wards going on at the foot of a river which 
runs to Locheach, others met them, and would 
have cast them into the river ; but this godly 
woman, not dismayed, asked a liberty to pray, 
and as she lay naked on the frozen ground, got 
resolution not to go on her own feet, to so un- 
just a death, upon which having called her, and 
she refusing, was dragged by the heels along 
that rugged way, to be cast in with her little 
ones, and company. 

But she then turned, and on her knees says, 
You should, I am sure, be Christians, and men 
I see you are ; in taking away our miserable 
lives, you do us a pleasure ; but know, that as 
we never wronged you nor yours, you must 
remember to die also yourselves, and one day 
give an accunt of this cruelty, to the Judge of 
heaven and earth. Hereupon they resolved 
not to murder them with their own hands, but 
turned them all naked upon a small island in the 
river, without any provision, there to perish. 



I2S 

The next day the two boys having crept a» 
side, found the hide of a beast which had been 
killed, at the root of a tree, which the mother 
cast over them lying upon the snow. The 
next day a little boat goes by, unto whom she 
calls for God's sake to take them in, but they be- 
ing Jrish 7 refused ; she desired a little bread, but 
they said they had none ; then she begs a coal 
of fire, which she obtained; and thus, with 
some fallen chipb, made a little fire, and the 
children taking a piece of the hide laid it on 
the coals, and began to knaw the leather ; but 
without an extraordinary divine support, 
what could this do ? 

Thus they lived ten days, without any visi- 
ble means of help, having no bread, but ice and 
snow, nor drink, except water. The two boys" 
being near starved, she pressed them to go out 
of her sight, not being able to see their death ; 
yet God delivered them as miraculously at last, 
as he had supported them all that while. 

But judge whether a natural death, in an or- 
dinary way be comparable to such a trial as 
.this ; and yet thus the Lord did by this choice 
and eminently gracious woman. 

And Mr. Wall, in his None-fotUCktuty relates 



124 

as sad a passage of a poor family in Germany, 
,who were driven unto that extremity in the 
famine, that at last the parents made a motion 
one to the other to. sell one of the children for 
bread to sustain themselves, and the rest; 
but when they came to consider which child it 
should be, their hearts so relented, and y erned 
upon every one, that they resolved rather all 
to die together. Yea, we read in Lam. iv. 10. 
«' The hands of the pitiful women have sodden 
" their own children ," 

But why spe ak 1 of these extremities ? How 
many parents, yea, some godly ones too, have 
lived to see their children dying in prophane- 
uess, and some by the hand of justice, lament- 
ing their rebellions with a rope about their 
neek. 

Ah ! reader, little dost thou kno w what 
stings there are in the afflictions of others! sure- 
ly you have no reason to think the Lord hath 
dealt more bitterly with you than any. It is a 
gentle stroke, a merciful dispensation, if you 
compare it with what others have felt. 

Consider, 18. Ij God be your God, you have re- 
ally lest nothing by the removal of any crease-comfort. 

God is the fountain of all true comfort; crea- 



125 

lures, the very best and sweetest, are but cisterns 
to receive, and convey to us what comfort God 
is pleased to communicate to them ; and if the 
cistern be broken or the pipe cut off, so that 
no more comfort can oe conveyed to us that 
way, he hath other ways and mediums to do it 
hy, which we think not of; and if he please he 
can convey his comforts to his people without 
any of them : And if he do it more immediate- 
ly , we shall be no losers by that ; for no com- 
forts in the world are so delectable, and ravish- 
ingly sweet, as those that flow immediately 
from the fountain. 

And it is the sensuality of our hearts that 
causes us to affect them so inordinately, and 
grieve for the loss of them so immoderately, as 
if we had not enough in God, without these 
creature-supplements. 

Is the fulness of the fountain yours ? And 
yet do you cast down yourselves, because the 
broken cistern is removed ? The best creatures 
are no better, Jer. ii. 13. Cisterns have noth- 
ing but what they receive, and broken ones can- 
not hold what is put into them. Why then 
do you mourn, as if your life were bound up in 
the creature ? You have as free an access tQ the 



126 

fountain as you bad before. It is the advice of 
an Heathen, (and let them take the comfort of 
it) to repair, by a new earthly comfort what we 
have lost in the former. 

14 Thou hast carried forth him whom thou 
<{ lovedet, (saith* Seneca) seek one whom thou 
u mayest love in his stead : It is better to repair, 
" than bemoan thy loss." 

• But if God never repair your loss, in things of 
the same kind, you know how he can abundant- 
ly repair it in himself. 

Ah ! Christian, is not one kiss of his mouth, 
one glimpse of his countenance, one seal of his 
spirit, a more sweet and substantial comfort, 
than the sweetest relation in this world can 
afford you ? If the stream fail, repair to the foun- 
tain, there is enough still ; God is where he 
was, though the creature be not. 

Consider. 19. Though you may ivant a little 
comfort in your life, yet surely it may be recomfeneed 
to you by a more easy death. 

The removal of your friends before you, may 
turn to your great advantage, when your hour 

* Quern amabas extulisti, quaere quern ames : 
Satius est amicum reparare quana stere. Sencc* 
Epist. p. 037. 



12T 

is come that you must follow them. O how 
have many good souls been clogged, and ensnar- 
ed, in their dying hour, by the loves, cares, and 
fears they have had about thosethey must leave 
behind in a sinful, evil world ! 

Your love to them might have proved a 
snare to you, and caused you to hang back, as 
loath to go hence; for these are the things that 
make men loath to die. And thus it might 
have been with you, except God had removed 
them b< f re hand, or should give you in that 
day such sights of heaven, and tastes of divine 
love, as should master and mortify all your 
earthly affections to these things. 

I knew a gracious person, now in heaven, 
who for many weeks in her last sickness, com- 
plained that she found it hard to part with a 
dear relation, and that there was nothing pro- 
ved a greater clog to her soul, than this : It is 
much more easy to think of going to our friends, 
who are in heaven before us, than of parting 
with them, and leaving our desirable and dear 
ones behind us. 

And who knows what cares, and distracting 
thoughts you may then be pestered and distrac- 
ted with, upon their account ? What shall be- 



128 

come of these, when I am gone? I am now to 

leave them, God knows to what wants, mise- 
ries temptations, and afflictions in the midst of 
a deceitful, defiling, dangerous world. 

I know it is our duty to leave our fatherless 
children, and friendless relations, with God ,• to 
trust them with him that gave them to us : 
And some have been enabled cheerfully to do so 
when they were parting from them. * Luther 
could say, 6 Lord, thou hast given me a wife 
' and children, I have little to leave them ; nour- 
< ishu teach, and keep them ; O thou Father of 
« the fatherless, and Judge of the widow.' But 
every Christian hath not a Luther's faith ; some 
find it a hard thing to disentangle their affec- 
tions at such a time : But now, if God has sent 
all yours before you, you have so much the less 
to do ; death may be easier to you than others. 

Consider, 20. But if mthlag that hath been yet 
said will stick with you, then, lastly, remember that 
you are near that state, and place, which admits no 
sorrows, nor sad reflections, upon any such accounts as 
these. 

Yet a little while, and you shall not miss 

* Melchior Adam, in the life of Luther. 



129 

them, you shall not need them, but you shall 
live as the angels of God : We now live partly 
by faith, partly by sense, partly upon God, and 
partly upon the creature; our state is mixed, 
therefore our comforts are so too. But when 
God shall be all in all, and we shall be as the 
angels of God in the way and manner of our !i. 
ving ; how much will the case be altered with 
us then, from what it is now ? 

Angels neither marry, nor are given in mar- 
riage, neither shall the children of the resurrec- 
tion ; when the days of our sinning are ended, 
the days of our mourning shall be so too. No 
graves were opened till sin entered, and no more 
shall be opened when sin is excluded. 

Our glorified relations shall live with us for- 
ever; they shall complain no more, die no 
more ; yea, this is the happiness of that state 
to which you are passing on, that your souls 
being in the nearest conjunction with God, the 
fountain of joy, you shall have no concernment 
out of him. You shall not be put upon those 
exercises of patience, nor subjected to sorrows 
as you now feel, any more. It is but a little 
while, and the end of all these things will 
xjome. O therefore be ar up, as persons that ex<* 
pect such a day of jubilee at hand. 



130 

And thus I have finished the second general 
head of this discourse, which is a dissuasive 
from the sin of immoderate sorrow. 

3. I now proceed to the third thing propos- 
ed, namely, to remove the pleas and excuses for 
this immoderate grief. It is natural to men, 
yea, to good men, to justify their excesses, or at 
least to extenuate them, by pleading for their 
passions, as if they wanted not cause, and rea- 
son enough to excuse them. If these be fully 
answered, and the soul once convinced, and left 
without apology for its sin, it is then in a fair 
way for its cure, which is the last thing design- 
ed in this treatise. 

My present business, therefore, is, to satisfy 
those objections, and answer those reasons 
which are commonly pleaded in this case, to 
justify otir excessive grief for lost relations. And 
tho' I shall carry it in that line of relation to 
which the text directs, yet it is equally appli- 
cable to aH others. 

Plea 1. You press me, by many great consid- 
erations to meekness, and quiet submission un- 
der this heavy stroke of God ; but you little 
know what stings my soul feels now in it, 



This child was a child of many prayers, it 
was a Samuel begged of the Lord, and i conclu- 
ded, when I had it, that it brought with it the 
returns, and answers of many prayers. But 
now I see it was nothing less ; God had no re- 
gard to my prayer about it, nor was it given 
me in that special way of mercy, as I imagined 
it to be : My child is not only dead, but my 
prayers in the same day shut out and denied. 

Answer 1 . That you prayed for your chil- 
dren before you had them, was your duty ; and 
if you prayed not for them submissively, refer- 
ring it to the pleasure of God to give, or deny 
them, to continue, or remove them, as should 
seem good to him, that was your sin : You 
ought not to limit the Holy One of Israel, not 
prescribe to him, or capitulate with him, for 
what term you shall enjoy your outward com- 
forts : If you did so, it was your evil, and God 
hathjustly rebuked it by this stroke. If you did 
pray conditionally, & submissively referring both 
the mercy asked, and continuance of it to the wjii 
of God, as you ought to do; then there is noth- 
ing in the death of your child that crosses the 
true scope and intent of your prayer. 



132 

Answer 2. Your prayers niay : be answered 
though the thing prayed for be withheld, yei, 
or though it should be given for a little while, 
and snatched away ftom you again. There are 
four ways of God's answering prayers ; by giv- 
ing the thing prayed for presently, Dan. ix. 23, 
or by suspending the answer for a time, and gi- 
ving afterwards, Luke xviii. 7. or by withhold- 
ing from you that mercy which you ask, and 
giving you a much better mercy in the room 
of it,Deut. iii. 24. compared with Deut. xxxiv. 
4, 5. Or, lastly, by giving you patience to bear 
the loss or want of it, 2 Cor, xii, 9. 

Now, if the Lord have taken away your 
child, or friend, and in lieu thereof given you a 
meek, quiet, submissive heart to his will, you 
need not say he hath shut out your cry. 

Plea 2. But I have lost a lovely, obliging, 
and most endearing child, one that was beauti- 
ful, and sweet; it is a stony heart that would 
not dissolve into tears for the loss of one so de- 
sirable, so engaging as this was : Ah ! it is no 
common loss. 

Answer 1. The more lovely, and engaging, 
your relation was, the more excellent will your 
patience, and contentment with the. will of God^ 






133 

In its death, be; the more loveliness, the more 
self-denial, the more grace. Had it been a thou- 
sand times more endearingly sweet than it was, 
it was not too good to deny for God. If there- 
fore obedience to the will of God do indeed mas- 
ter natural affections, and that you look upon 
patience and contentment as much more beau- 
tiful than the sweetest, and most desirable en- 
joyment on earth, it may turn to you for a tes- 
timony of the truth and strength of grace : that 
you can, like Abraham, part with a child 
whom you so dearly love, in obedience to the 
will of your God, whom you iove infinitely 
more. 

Answer 2. The loveliness and beauty of our 
children and relations, though it must be ac- 
knowledged a good gift from the hand of God ; 
yet it is but a common gift, and oftentimes be- 
comes a snare, and is, in its own nature, but a 
transitory, vanishing thing, and therefore no 
such great aggravation of the loss as is preten- 
ded. 

I say, it is but a common gift ; Eliab, Adoni- 
jah, and Absalom, had as lovely presences as a- 
! ny in their generation. Yea, it is not only com- 
mon to the wicked, with the godly, but to brute 
M 



in 

annuals, as well as men, and to most that excel 
in it, it becomes a temptation ; the souls of some 
had been more beautifully and lovely, if. their 
bodies had been less so. Besides, it is but a 
Sower which nourishes in its mouth, and then 
fades. This therefore should not be reflected on 
as so great a circumstance to aggravate your 
trouble. 

Annvir 3. Bat if your relation sleep in Jesus, 
he will appear ten thousand times more lovely 
in' the morning of the resurrection, than ever he 
was in the world. What is the exactest, pur- 
est beauty of mortals, to the incomparable beau- 
ty of the saints in the resurrection ? u Then 
u shall the righteous shine forth as the sun, in 
" the kingdom of their Father," Matth. xiii. 43. 
in this hope you part with them, therefore act 
suitably to your hopes. 

Plea 3. Oh ! but my child was nipped off 
by death in the very bud ; I did but see, and 
love, and part : Had I enjoyed it longer, and 
had time to stack out the sweetness of such an 
enjoyment, I could have borne it easier ; but 
its months or years with me were so few, that 
they only served to raise an expect aticn which 
was quickly, and therefore the more sadly dis- 
appointed. 






135 

Answer I. Did your friend die young, of was 

I the bond of any other relation dis- 
solved almost as soon as made ? Vide Mr. 
\&\ not this seem so intolerable a Baxter's E- 
load for yon ; for if you have pisiti to the 
ground to hope they died in Lije of Mr 
Christ, then they lived long e* John Jane* 
nough in this world. It is truly way. 

] said, he hath sailed long enough, 
that hath won the harbour ; he hath fought 
long enough that hath obtained the victory ; 
he hath run long enough that hath touched the 

i goal ; and he hath lived long enough upon earth, 

j that hath won heaven, be his days here never 
so few. 

Answer 2. The sooner yt)ur relation died, the 
less sin hath been committed, and the less sor- 
row felt : What can you see in this world but 
sin or sorrow ? A quick passage through it to 
glory, is a special privilege. Surely the world 
is not so desirable a place, that Christians should 
desire an hour's time longer in it for themselves, 
or theirs, than serves to fit them for $ better. 

Answer 3. And whereas you imagine the" 
parting would have been easier, if the enjoy- 
xrient had been longer, it is a fond and ground 



136 

Xe*§ suspicion : The longer you had enjoyed 
them, the stronger would the endearments 
have been. A young, and tender plant, may 
be easily drawn up by a single hand ; but when 
it hath spread, and fixed its root many years in 
the earth, it will require many a strong blow, 
and hard tug to root it up. Affections, like 
those under ground roots, are fixed and strength- 
ened by nothing more than consuetude, and 
long possession ; it is much easier parting now, 
than it would be hereafter, whatever you think. 
However, this should satisfy you, that God's 
time is the best time. 

Plea 4. O but 1 have lost all in one, it is 
my only one, I have none left in its roem to re- 
pair the breach, and make up the loss : If God 
had given me other children to take comfort in, 
the loss had not been so great ; but to lose ail 
at one stroke, is insupportable. 

Answer 1. Religion allows not unto Chris- 
tians a liberty of expressing the death of their 
dear relations by so hard a word as the loss of 
them is ; they are net lost, but sent before you * : 
And it is a shameful thing for a Christian to be 

* Non amittuntur sed praemittuntur. 



13T 

reproved for such an uncomely expression by a 
heathen ; it is enough to make us blush to read 
what an heathen said in this ease f, * Never 
' say thou hast loss any thing (saith Epictetus) 
f but that it is returned. Is thy son dead ? He 
' is only restored. Is thy inheritance taken 
4 from thee ? it is also returned/ And a while 
after he adds, ' Let every thing be as the gods 
would have it.' 

Answer 2. It is no fit expression to say you 
have lost all in one, except that one be Christ ? 
aad he being once yours, can never be lost. 
Doubtless your meaning is, you have lost all 
your comfort of that kind ; and what though 
you have ? Are there not multitudes of com- 
forts yet remaining, of a higher kind, and more 
precious and durable nature ? If you hare no 
more of that sort, yet so long as you have bet- 
ter, what cause have you to rejoice ! 

Am*wer 3. You too much imitate the way 
of the world in this complaint ; they know not 
how to repair the loss of one comfort but by a- 
nother of the same nature, which must be put 
in its room to fill up the vacancy : But hav$ 

f Epict, Enchirid. cap. 15. 



138 

you no other way to supply your loss? Have 
you not a God to fill the place of any creature 
that leaves you ? Surely this would better be. 
come a man whose portion is in this life, than 
one that professes God is his all in all. 

Plea 5. O but my only one is not only taken 
away, but there remains no expectation, or 
piobability of any more: I must now look upon 
myself as a dry tree, never to take comfort in 
children any more,' which is a cutting thought. 

Answer 1. Suppose what you say, that you 
have no hope, nor expectation of another child 
remaining to you ; yet if you have a hope of 
better things than children, you have no reason 
to be cast down : Bless God for higher and bet- 
ter hopes than these. In Isa. lvi. 4, 5. the 
Lord comforts them that have no expectations 
of sons or daughters, with this; u That he 
" will give unto them in his house, and within 
" his wall, a place, and a name better than of 
" sons or daughters ; even an everlasting name 
" that shall not be cut off." There are better 
mercies aud higher hopes than these ; though 
your hopes of children, or from children, should 
be cutoff, yet if your eternal hopes are secure, 
and such as shall not make you ashamed, you 
should not be so cast down. 



139 

Jnswer 2. If God will not have your com- 
forts to lie any more in children, then re- 
solve to place them in himself, and you shall 
never find cause to complain of loss by such an 
exchange : You will find that in God, which 
is not to be had in the creature ; one hour's 
communion with him, shall give you that 
which the happiest parent never yet had from 
his children ; you will exchange brass for gold, 
perishing vanity, for solid and abiding excellen- 
cy- * 

Plea 6. But the suddenness of the stroke is . 
amazing, God gave little or no warning to pre- 
pare for this trial : Death executed its commis- 
sion as soon as it opened it. My dear husband, 
wife, or child, was snatched unexpectedly out 
of my arms, by a surprizing strike; and this 
makes my stroke heavier than my complaint. 

Answer 1 . That the death of your relation 
was so sudden and surprizing, was much your 
own fault, you ought to have lived in the daily 
sense of its vanity, and expectation of your sep. 
aratr n from it ; you knew it to be a dying com- 
fort in its best estate, and it is no such wonderful 
thing to see that dead, which you knew before 
to be dying . Besides, you heard the changes 



14Q 

| tinging about you in other families ; you frequent- 
ly saw other parents, husbands, and wives carry- 
ing forth their dead; and what were all these 
but warnings given you to prepare for the like 
trials ? 

Surety, then, it was your own security and 
regard lessness that made this affliction so sur- 
prizing to you ; and who is to be blamed for 
that, you know. 

Answer 2. There is much difference betwixt 
the sudden death of infants, and that of grown 
persons ; the latter may have much work to 
do; many sins actually to repent of, and many 
evidences of their interest in Christ to examine 
and clear, in order to their more comfortable 
death ; and so suddjn death may be deprecated 
by them. 

But in the case of infants, who exercise not 
their reason, is far different ; they have no Fuch 
work todo ? but are purely passive: All that is 
done in order to their salvation, is done by God 
immediately upon them, so it comes all to one, 
whether their death be more quick, or more 
slow. 

Answer 3. You complain of *,he suddenness 
of the strokes but another will be ready to say, 






141 

had my friend died in that manner, my afflic- 
tion had been nothing to what now it is ; I 
have seen many deaths contrived into one ; I 
saw the gradual approaches of it upon my dear 
relation, who felt every thread ef death as it 
came on toward him, who often cried with Job, 
chap. iii. ver. 2 J , 22. " Wherefore is light gi- 
" ven to him that is in misery, and life to the 
" bitter in soul ? Which long for death, but 
" it cometh not, and dig for it more than for 
u hid treasures : Which rejoice exceedingly, and 
« are glad when they can find the grave." 

That which yeu reckon the sting of your af- 
fliction, others would have reckoned a favour 
and privilege. How many tender parents, and 
other relations, who loved their friends as dear- 
ly as yourselves, have been forced to their knees, 
upon no other errand but this, to beg the Lord 
to hasten the separation, and put an end to that 
sorrow, which to them was much greater than 
the sorrow for the dead. 

Plea 7. You press me to moderation of sor«. 
sows, and I know I ought to shew it ; but you 
do not know how the case stands with me, 
there is a sting in this affliction, that none feels 
but myself i and, O ! how intolerable is it now ! 



142 

I neglected proper means in season to preserve 
life, or miscarried in the use of means. I now 
see such a neglect, or such a mistake about the 
means, as I cannot but judge greatly to contri- 
bute to that sad loss which I now, too late, la- 
ment. 

O my negligence, O my rashness, and incon- 
siderateness ! how doth my conscience now 
smite me for my folly ! and by this aggravate 
ray burden beyond what is usually felt by oth- 
ers. Had I seasonably applied myself to the 
use of proper means, and kepJ strictly to such 
courses and counsels as those that are able and 
skilful might have prescribed, I might now have 
had a living husband, wife, or child : Whereas 
I am now not only bereaved, but am apt to 
think I have bereaved myself of them. Surely 
ther^ 1 is no sorrow like unto my sorrow. 

Answer 1. Though it be an evil to neglect, 
and slight the means ordained by God for recov- 
ery of health, yet it is no less evil to ascribe too 
much to them, or rely too much on them : the 
best means in the world are weak and ineffec- 
tual, without God's assistance and concurrence, 
and they never have that his assistance or con- 
\ currence, when his time is come ; and that it 



143 

was fully come in your friend's case, is manifest* 
ed now by the event. So that if your friend 
had had the most excellent helps the world af- 
fords, they would have availed nothing. This 
consideration takes place only in your case, who 
see what the will of God is by the issue, and 
may not be pleaded by any whilst it remains 
dubious and uncertain, as it generally doth in 
time of sickness. 

Answer 2. Do you not unjustly charge, and 
blame yourselves for that which is not really 
your fault, or neglect ! How far you are charge, 
able in this case, will best appear by comparing 
the circumstances you are now in, with those 
you were in when your relation was only ar- 
rested by sickness ; it was dubious to you what 
was your duty, and best course to take. 

Possibly you had observed so many to perish 
in physicians hands, and so many to recover 
without them, that you judged it safer for your* 
friend to be without those means, than to be 
hazarded by them. 

Or, if divers methods and courses were pre- 
scribed, and persuaded to, and you now see 
your error, in preferring that which was most 
improper, and neglecting what was more safe. 



144 

and probable : yet as long as it did not so ap- 
pear to your understanding at that time, but 
you followed the best Jignt you had to guide 
you at that time, it were most unjust to charge 
the fault upon yourselves, for chusing that 
course that seemed best to you, whether it were 
so in itself, or not. 

To be angry with yourselves for doing, or o- 
mitting what was then done, or committed, ac- 
cording to your best discretion, and judgment, 
because you now see it by the tight of the e- 
vent, far otherwise than you did before ; it is to 
be troubled that you are but men, or that you 
are not as God, who only can foresee issues, and 
events ; and that you acted as all rational crea- 
tures are bound to do, according to the light 
they have, at the time and season of action, 

Answer 3. To conclude, Times of great af- 
fliction are ordinarily times of great temptation, 
and it is usual with Satan then to charge us 
with more sins than we are guiity 0i, and also 
make those things to be sins, which, upon im- 
partial examination, will not be found to be so. 

Indeed, had your neglect or miscarriage been 
known or voluntary, or had you really preferred 
a little money (being able to give it) before the 



145 

life of your relation, and did deliberately chuse 
to hazard this, rather than part with that ; no 
doubt, then, but there had been much evil of sin 
mixed with your affliction ; and your con- 
science may justly smite you for it, as you? 
sin ; but in the other case, which is morecom- 
mon, and I presume yours ; It is a false charge, 
and you ought not to abet the design of Satan 
in it. 

Judge by the sorrow you now feel by your: 
friend, in what degree he was dear to you, and 
what you could now willingly give to ransom, 
his life, if it could be done with money. Judge, 
I say, by this, how groundless the charge is 
that Satan now draws up against you, and you 
are but too ready to yield to the truth of it. 

Plea 8. But my troubles are upon a higher 
score, and account ; my child or friend is passed 
into eternity, and I know not how it is with 
his soul : were I sure my relation weje with 
Christ, 1 should be quiet; but my fears of thg 
contrary are overwhelming ; O it is terrible to 
think of the damnation of one so dear tome, 

Answer 1. Admit what the objection sup- 
poses, that you have real grounds to fear the e- 

ternal condition of your dear relation j vet 

N 






146 

it is utterly unbeseeming you, even in such a 
case as this, to dispute with, or repine against 
the Lord. 

1 do confess it is a sore and heavy trial, and 
that there is no cause more sad, and sinking to 
the spirit of a gracious person : their death is 
but a trifle to this ; but yet if you be such as 
fear the Lord, methinks his indisputable sover- 
eignty over them, and his distinguishing love 
and mercy to you, should at least silence you in 
this matter. 

First, His indisputable sovereignty over them, 
Rom. ix. 20. " Who art thou, O man, who 
" disputest with God ?" He speaks in the mat- 
ters of eternal election, and reprobation. What 
if the Lord will not be gracious to those that 
are so dear to us ? Is there any wrong done to 
them or us thereby ? Aaron's two sons were 
cut off in the act of sin, by the Lord's immedi- 
ate hand, and yet he held his peace, Lev x 3. 
God told Abraham plainly, that the covenant 
should not be established with Ishmael, for 
whom he so earnestly prayed, let Lhmael live 
before thae ! and he knew that there was no sal- 
vation out of the covenant, and yet he sits 
down silent under fehe word of the Lord. 



247 

Secondly •, But if this do not qaiet you, yet 
methinks his distinguishing love and mercy to 
you should do it. O what do you owe to God^ 
that root and branch had not been cast togeth- 
er into the fire ! that the Lord hath given you 
good hope, through grace that it shall be well 
with you forever. Let this stop your month, 
and quiet your spirit, though you would have 
grounds for this fear. 

Answer 2. But pray examine the grounds of 
your fear, whether it may not proceed from the 
strength of your affections to the eternal wel- 
fare of your friend, or from the subtility of Sa- 
tan designing hereby to overwhelm and swal- 
low you up in supposed, as weii as from just 
grounds and causes ? In two cases it is very 
probable your fear may proceed only from your 
own affection, or Satan's temptation. 

First, If your relation died young, before it 
did any thing to destroy your hopes. Or, 

Secondly, If grown, and in soms good degree 
hopeful ; only he did not in life, or at death, 
manifest, and give evidence of grace, with that 
clearness as you desired. 

As to the case of infants in general, it is none 
of our concern to judge their condition ; and a$ 






148 

for those that sprang from covenanted parents, 
it becomes us to exercise charity towards them ; 
the scripture speaks very favourably of them * 

And as for the more adult, who have esc$ r 
ped the pollutions of the world, and made con- 
science of sin and duty^ albeit they never mani- 
fested what yo\i could desire they had ; yet in 
them, as in young Abijah, " may be found 
" some good things towards the Lord," which 
you never took notice of. Reverence of your 
authority, bashfulness, and shame- facedness, re- 
servedness of disposition, and many other 
thing?, may hide those small and weak begin- 
iiings of grace that are in children, from the 
observations of the parents. God might see 
that in them that you never saw : he despiseth 
not the day of small things. 

However it be, it is now out of your reach ; 
your concernment rather is to improve the af- 
fliction to your own good, than judge and de- 
termine their condition, which belongs not to 
yon but to God. 

Plea 9. O but I have sinned in this relation, 
and God hath punished my sin in dissolving it. 
O, saith one, my heart was set too much upon 
it, I even idolized it, that was my sin : and ? 



143 

saith another, I wanted due affections, and did 
not iove my relation, at least not so spiritually 
- as I ought ; that was my sin. Now God is 
visiting me for all the neglects and defects that 
hath been in me towards my relation. 

Answer 1 There is no man so thoroughly 
sanctified, as not to fail, and come short in ma- 
ny things pertaining to his relative duties: and 
to speak, as the thing is, the corruptions of the 
holiest persons are as much discovered in this, 
as any other thing whatsoever; and it is a ve- 
ry common thing for conscience, not only to 
charge these failures upon us, but to aggravate 
them to the utmost when God hath made the 
separation. So that this is no more than 
what is usual, and very common, with persons 
in' your case. 

Answer 2. Admit that which the objection 
supposes, that God hath afflicted you for your 
sin, and removed that<?omfort from you, which 
you idolized, and too much doted on ; yet there 
is no reason you should be so cast down under 
your affliction : For all this may be, and prob- 
ably is the fruit of his love to, and care of your 
soul, Rev. iii. 19. He tells the afflicted, for 
their comfort, " Whom I love, I rebuke and 



150 

? chasten. " Flow much better is it to have 
an idolized enjoyment taken from you, in mer- 
cy, than if God should say concerning 
you, as he did of Ephraim, Hosea iv. 17. 
" He is joined to idols, let him alone." 

O it is better for you that your Father now 
reckons with you for your follies with the rod 
In his hand, than to say as he doth to some, let 
them go on,-l will not hinder them in, or re- 
buke them for their sinful courses ; but will reck- 
on with them for aU together in hell at last. 

Answer 3. And as to what you now charge 
upon yourself, that the neglect of duty did 
spring from the want of love to your relation ; 
your^orrow at parting may evidence that your 
relation was rooted deep in your affection ; but 
if your love was not so spiritual and pure, to 
love and enjoy them in God \ that was undoubt- 
edly your sin. and is the sin of most Christians, 
for which both you, and all others, ought to be 
humbled. 

■J?lea 10. God hath blessed me with an es- 
tate, and outward comforts in the world, which 
I reckoned to have left to my posterity ; and 
now I have none to leave it with, nor have I 
smy comfort to think of it ; the purposes of my , 



heart are broken off, and the comfort of all my 
other enjoyments blasted by this stroke in an 
hour. How are the pains and care? of many 
years perished. 

Answer I. How many are there in the world, 
yea, of our own acquaintance, whom God hath 
either denied, or deprived both of the comforts 
pf children and estates too ? If he have left you 
those outward comforts, you ought to acknowl- 
edge his goodness therein, and not to slight 

these because he hath deprived you of the oth- 
er. 

Answer 2. Though your children are gone, 
yet God hath many children left in the world, 
whose bowels you may refresh with what he 
hath bestowed upon you ; and your charity to 
them will doubtless turn to a more considerable 
account, than if you had left a large estate to 
your own posterity. 

Surely we are not sent into this world to 
heap up great estates for our children : and if 
you have been too eager in this design, you may 
now read God's just rebuke of your folly. Bless 
God you have an opportunity to serve him em- 
inently by your charity, and God deny you oth- 
er executors, let your own hands be your e?cec* 



152 

utors, to distribute to the necessity of the saints, 
that the blessings of them that are ready to 
perish may come upon you. 

Plea 11.0 but the remembrance of its witty 
words, and pretty actions, is wounding, 

Answer 1. Let it rather lift up your hearts 
to God in praise, that gave von ?o desirable a 
child, than fill your heart with discontent at 
his hand in removing it. How many parents 
are there in the world, whose children God 
hath deprived of reason and understanding, so 
that they only differ from the beasts in external 
shape and, figure ? And how many shew be- 
times so perverse a temper, that little comfort 
can be expected from them. 

Answer 2. These are but small circumstan- 
ces, and trivial things in themselves ; but by 
these little things Satan manages a great design 
against your soul, to deject or exasperate it: 
And surely this is not your business at this 
time : you have greater things than the words 
and actions of children to mind ; to search out 
God's ends in the affliction, to mortify the cor- 
ruption it is sent to rebuke, to quiet your hearts 
in the will of God ; this is your work. 

Plea 12. Lastly, It is objected, but God 



153 

hides his face from me in my affliction ; it is 
dark within, as well as without, and this makes 
my case more deplorable, greatly afflicted, and 
sadly deserted. 

Answer 1. Though you want at present 
sensible comfort, yet you have reason to be 
thankful for gracious supports. Though the 
light of God's countenance shine not upon you, 
yet you find the everlasting arms are under- 
neath you ; tiie care of God worketh for you, 
when the consolations of God are withdrawn 
from you, 

Answer 2. To have God hi^e his face in time 
of trouble, is no new, or unusual thing ; God's 
dearest saints, yea, his own Son, hath experi- 
enced it, who in the deeps of inward and out- 
ward trouble, when wave called unto wave, 
felt not those sweet sensible influences of com- 
fort from God, which had always filled his 
soul formerly. If Christ cry in extremity, 
" My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken 
" me !" Then sure we need not wonder, as if 
some strange thing had happened to us. 

Answer 3. May not your submissive carriage 
under the rod provoke God to hide his face 
from you. Pray consider it well, nothing is 



154 

more probable than for this to be the cause of 
God's withdrawment from you. Could yoa> in 
meekness and quietness, receive that cup your 
Father hath given you to drink : accept the 
punishment of your iniquities ; say, good is the 
word of the Lord, It is the Lord, let him do 
what he will: You would soon find the case 
altered with you; but the comforting spirit 
finds no delight, or rest, in a turbulent and tu- 
multuous breast. 

And thus I have satisfied the most considera- 
ble pleas urged, in justification of our excesses. 

4. I now- come to the last thing proposed, 
namely, the means of curing and preventing 
these sinful excesses of sorrow for the death of 
our dear relations. 

And although much hath been said already 
to dissuade from this evil, and 1 have enlarged 
already much beyond my first Intention ; yet I 
shall cast in some farther help and assistance 
towards the healing of this distemper, by pre- 
scribing the following rules : 

Rule 1. Ifyoi would not mourn excessively for 
the foss of creature comforts, then beware that you 
set not your delight and 1 eve ecxessively* or jnordi~ 
nately, uj>on them i whilst you do enjoy them* 



155 

Strong affections make strong afflictions ; the 
higher the tide the lower the ebb. Accor- 
ding to the measure of our delight in the 
enjoyment, is our grief in the loss of these 
things. The apostle knits these two graces, 
temperance and patience, together, in the pre- 
cept^ Pet. i. 16. and it is very observable how 
intemperance and impatience are inseparably 
linked in experience, yea, the experience of the 
best men. You read, Gen. xxxvii. 3 " Now 

* Israel loved Joseph more than all his children, 
" because he was the son of his old age ; and 

* made him a coat of many colours." 

This was the darling; Jacob's eart was sj 
exceedingly set upon him, his very life was 
bound up in the life of the lad. Now when 
the supposed death of his child was brought to 
him, how did he carry it? See v^r. 34, 35* 

* And Jacob rent his clothes, and put sackloth 
" upon his loins ; and mourned for his son ma- 
" ny days : And ail his sons, and all his daugh- 
" ters rose up to comfort him, but he refused to 
a be comforted. And he said, for I will go 
" down into the grave to my son mourning. 
" Thus his father wept for him." 

Here, as in a glass, are the effects of excessive 



156 

love to a child represented : Here you may gee 
what work immoderate love will make, even in 
a sanctified heart. 

O therefore let your moderation be known to 
all men, in your delights and sorrows about 
earthly things ; for ordinarily the proportion of 
the one is answerable to the other. 

Rule 2. If you would not be overwhelmed with 
grief for the loss of your relations, be endct and care- 
ful in discharging your duties to them while you liceoe 
them. 

The testimony of your conscience, that yoa 
have laboured in all things to discharge the du- 
ties you owed to your relations, whilst they 
were with you, will prove an excellent allay to 
your sorrows for them when they are no longer 
yours. It is not so much tha single affliction, 
as the guilt charged upon us in times of afflic- 
tion, that makes our load so heavy. 

O what a terrible thing is it to look upon 
our dead friends, whilst conscience is accusing 
and upbraiding us for our duties neglected, and 
such or such sins committed ? O you little think 
how dreadful a spectacle this will make the 
dead body of thy friend to thee ! 

Conscience, if not quite stupid or dead, wifl 



157 

speak at such a time. O therefore, as ever you 
would provide for a comfortable parting at 
death, or meet again at judgment ; be exact, 
punctual, and circumspect, in all ymv relative 
duties. 

Rule 3. If you ivould net be overwhelmed by 
trouble fir the loss of your dear relations, then turn to 
God under your tr o u ble, and four out your sor ronvs, 
by prayer, into his bosom* 

This will ease and allay your troubles. Bles- 
sed be God for the ordinance of prayer ; how- 
much are all the saints beholden to it, at all 
times, but especially in heart sinking and dis- 
tressful times ? It is some relief when in dis- 
tress, we can pour out out trouble into the bo- 
som of a wife, or faithful friend ; how much 
more when we leave our complaint before the 
gracious, wise, and faithful God ? I told you be- 
fore of that holy man, who having lost his dear 
and only son, got to his closet, there poured out 
his soul freely to the Lord, and when he came 
down to his friends, that were waiting below 
to comfort him, and fearing how he would 
bear that stroke, he came from his duty with a 
cheerful countenance, telling them he would 
be. content to bury a son, if it were possible^ 



158 w 

ever) day, provided he might enjoy such com- 
fort as his soul had found in that private hour. 

Go thy way, Christian, to thy God, get thee 
to thy knees in the cloudy and dark day ; retire 
from ail creatures, that thou mayest have thy 
full liberty with thy God, and there pour out 
thy heart before him, in free, full, and broken- 
hearted confessions of sin : Judge thyself wor- 
thy of hell, as well as of this trouble \ justify 
God in all his smartest strokes ; beg him, in 
this distress, to put under thee everlasting arms ; 
intreat one smile, one gracious look, to enlight- 
en thy darkness, and cheer thy drooping spirit. 
Say, with the prophet, Jer. xvii. iY. " Be 
" thou not a terror to me ; thou art my hope 
" in the day of evil." And try what relief such 
a course will afford thee. Surely, if thy heart 
be sincere in this course, thou shalt be able to 
say with that holy man, Psalm xciv. 29. " In 
" the multitude of my thoughts which I had 
" within me, thy comforts have delighted my 
" soul." 

Rule 4. If you would bear the loss of your dear 
relations nv'ith moderation , eye God in the ivkole pro* 
cess of ilie affliction more, and secondary causes and 
circumstances of the matter lesu 



159 

44 I was dumb, I opened not my mouth, be- 
41 cause thou didst it," Psal. xxxix. 9. Consider 
the hand of the Lord in the whole matter : And 
that, 

First, As a sovereign hand, which hath right 
to diposeof thee, and all thy comforts, without 
thy leave or consent, Job xxxiii. 13. 

Secondly, As a father's hand correcting thee 
in love and faithfulness. Prov. iii. 11. " Whom 
44 the Lord loveth he correcteth, as a father 
44 the son in whom he delighteth." O if once 
you could bu see affliction as a rod in a father's 
hand, proceeding from his love, and intended 
for jour eternal good ; how quiet would you 
then be ? 

Ad surely if it draws your heart nearer to 
God, and mortifies it more to this vain world, 
it is a rod in the hand of special love : If it end 
in your love to God, doubt not but it comes 
from God's love to you. 

Thirdly, As a just and righteous hand. Hast 
not thou procured this to thyself by thy own 
folly ? Yea, the Lord is just in all that is come 
upon thee ; whatever he hath done, yet he hath 
done thee no wrong. 

. Fourthly <> Lastly, As a moderate and merciful 



160 

hand that hath punished thee less than thine 
iniquities deserve : He that hath cast thee into 
affliction, might justly have cast thee into hei!. 
It is of the Lord s mercy that thou art not con r 
sumed. Why doth the living man complain J 

Rule 5. If you *would bear your affliction nvith 
moderation, compare it with the afflictions of other. 
men, and that ivUl gre itly quiet your spirits. 

You have no cause to say God hath dealt 
bitterly with you, and that there is no sorrow- 
like your sorrow : Look round about you, and i 
impartially consider the condition that others 
are in ; and they nothing inferior to you in a- 
ny respect. You had one dead child, Aaron 
had two at a stroke, Job all at one stroke ; and 
koth these by an immediate stroke from the 
hand of God. Some godly parents have lived 
to see their children die in their sin by the hand 
of justice; others have seen them live to tho 
dishonour of God, and breaking of their own 
spirits, and would have esteemed it a mercy if 
.they had died from the womb, and given up the 
ghost when they came out of the belly, as Job 
speaks. 

In what misery have some parents seen 
their children die ! God holding them as so ma- 



161 

ny terrible spectacles of misery before their 
eyes ; so that they have begged the Lord, with 
importunity, to let loose his hands, and cut 
them off; death being, in their esteem, nothing 
to those continual agonies in which they have 
seen them lie weltering from day to day, O 
you little know what a bitter cup others have 
had given thera to drink ? Surely, if you com- 
pare, you must say, the Lord hath dealt gently 
and graciously with me. 

Rule 6. Carefully shun, and avoid whatsoever 
may renew your sorrow, or provoke you to impatience* 

Increase not your sorrow by the sight of, or 
discourses about sad objects; and labour to a- 
void them, as occasions presented by the ene- 
my of your souls, to draw forth the corruptions 
of your heart. 

I told you before, why Jacob woul i not have 
the child of which Rachel died, called after the 
name his wife had given, Benoni, the son of 
my sorrow ; lest it should prove a daily occa- 
sion of renewing his trouble for the loss of his 
dear wife; But he called his name Benjamin. 

Your impatience is like tinder, or gunpow- 
der, so long as you can prevent tha sparks from 
felling on it ; there is no great danger ; but you 



162 

that carry such dangerous prepared matter" in 
your own hearts, cannot be too careful to pre- 
vent them. Do by murmuring, as you do by 
blasphemous thoughts; think quite another 
way, and give no occasion. 

Rule 7. In the day of your mourning for the 
death of your friends, serious fy consider your onvn death 
as approaching, and that you, and your dead friend 
are distingulhsed by a sma 11 interval a 'id point of time, 
2 Sam. xi. JfS. I shall go to him. Surely the 
thoughts of your own death, as approaching 
also, will greatly allay your sorrows for the 
dead that are gone before you. 

We are apt to fancy a long life in the world, 
and then the loss of those comforts which we 
promised ourselves so much of the sweetness 
and comforts of our lives from, seems an intol- 
erable thing. 

But would you realize your own deaths more, 
yen would not be so deeply concerned for their 
death as you are. Could you but look into 
your own graves more seriously, you would 
be able to look into your friend's grave more 
composedly. 

And thus I have finished what I designed 
from this scripture* The Father of merdeSj and 



163 

God of all comforts, whose sole prerogative it 
is to comfort them that are cast down, write 
all his truths upon your hearts, that they may 
abide there, and reduce your disordered affec- 
tions to that frame which best suits the will 
of God, and the profession you make of subjec- 
tion and resignation thereunto, 



ON THE 

COMFORTS AND SNARES 

OF 

SOCIAL AND RELATIVE AFFECTIONS, 

BY REV. JOHN NEWTON. 



ALAS 1 bow difficult do we find it to ob- 
serve a due medium between overvaluing and 
undervaluing our creature comforts; especially 
those of social and relative life. The mutual af- 
fection which does, or should subsist, between 
husband and wife, parents and children, and 
proportionably between other family connec- 
tions, or our intimate and tried friends, consti- 
tute our chief temporal pleasures. These are al- 
most the only pleasures this earth can afford, 
which are very interesting to an intelligent and 
serious mind* For these the voluptuary has lit- 
tle relish ; sensuality has blunted his feelings, 
and his gratifications are scarcely superior to 
those of the brutes. 

Such persons are not at present concerned in 
the subject of this paper, nor can they well un- 



derstandit. I write for those who possess and 
value the comforts of domestic life, acknowledge 
the goodness of the Lord in bestowing and pre- 
serving them, who wish to make them addition- 
al motives for gratitude and praise, but are often 
apprehensive that their attachments to his gifts 
withdraw their thoughts from the great Giver, 
and encroach upon that supreme regard which is 
only due to himself. 

A disposition to love the creature more than 
the Creator, is undoubtedly a part and a proof 
of our natural depravity. This evil principle, 
described by the apostle under the names of 
the Flesh, the Old Man, and Indwelling Sin, 
however weakened and mortified in a true be- 
liever, is not extirpated. The opposition be- 
tween nature and grace, flesh and spirit, renders 
the Christian's life a state of constant war- 
fare. They are opposite, contrary, contradic- 
tory one to the other ; no peace or truce can 
subsist between them. The effects of this con- 
flict extend to every faculty : when grace is in 
exercise, the motions of sin are noticed, check- 
ed, and lamented ; but they are always suffi- 
ciently strong to render our best intentions and 
best actions detective and polluted; and par tic- 



!6T 

raarly to depreciate and adulterate the finest 
feelings of humanity, and to turn our glory into 
shame. Thus our comforts often become our 
snares, and that which should be for our health 
proves an occasion of falling. 

We cannot be too watchful against this pro- 
pensity : it should prompt us to daily humilia- 
tion and much prayer. But the Lord is not a 
hard master ; he gives us all things richly to en- 
joy ; not to raise, and then disappoint our expec- 
tations, but, within the limits his wisdom pre* 
scribes, to gratify them. Ignorance and super- 
stition misrepresent him. Under their influ- 
ence multitudes think to please him hj 7 self in- 
vented austerities and mortifications, and sup- 
pose they shall be acceptable to him, in propor- 
tion as they make themselves miserable. But, 
on the contrary, we are assured that he delights 
in our prosperity, so far as it is consistent with 
our safety ; and that he does not willingly afflict 
the children of men, and especially his own 
children, who love and serve him. He has pla- 
ced us in a world, in which (considered as his 
world) every thing is beautiful in its season, 
proper use. and due subordination, to cur good; 
though, considered as man's world, our aposta* 



168 

cy has filled it with confusion an?T misery. 

Contemplate his goodness in a rural situation. 
Light colours, and prospects, are suited to please 
the eye. The singing of birds, the lowing of 
the cattle, the bleating of the sheep, and, in 
general, the inarticulate tones of all the animal 
tribes, are soothing and grateful to the ear. 
Daring a great part of the year, the scent of 
blossoms and flowers perfumes the air, and re- 
gales the sense of smelling. Food is a necessa- 
ry mean for the preservation of life, and would 
be so if it were no less palatable than the most 
nauseous drugs. But we are furnished with a 
profusion and variety of articles, which, while 
they satisfy our hunger, and recruit our strength, 
are likewise grateful to the palate, and accom- 
modated to the different tastesW different per- 
sons : nay, he has not only given us food but 
fruits. These are certainly not needful for the 
support of life, nor are they interdicted like the 
fruit of the tree of knowledge, but are freely pre- 
sented for our use. Things might have been so 
constituted, that all our sensations from externa! 
objects would have been disagreeable arid pain- 
ful. But God is good. We should live in the 
midst of continual enjoyments if we obeyed his 



precepts, and observed his regulations ; which, 
however contrary to the evil dispositions of our 
fallen nature, amount to no more than the kind 
admonition, Do thyself no harm ; for there is not 
a single restriction enjoined by the Scripture, 
with which it would not be our interest to com- 
ply, if the authority of God was wholly out of 
the question. But sin, where it prevails, dis- 
honours God, abuses his gifts, and throws all in- 
to confusion. Intemperance, riot, and disorder- 
ly passions, have filled the earth with woe. 

Thus- as we are creatures formed for society, 
and cannot live, either with safety or comfort, 
in a solitary state it has pleased God of his good- 
ness to make us susceptive of social affections, 
which sweeten out intercourse with each other, 
and combine duty with pleasure. Parents are 
certainly bound by the law of nature to take 
care of their own children, and to provide for 
them ; especially in the helpless state of infan- 
cy, when they are utterly unable to take care 
of themselves. This would often be an irksome 
task, if they did not feel an instinctive tender- 
ness for their infant offspring at first sight, 
>vhich makes that delightful which might oth- 
rwise be troublesome, 
P 



170 

It is likewise'the appointment of God, that 
the successive generations of mankind should be 
perpetuated by marriage. As this is the near- 
est of all natural relations, so when the union is 
properly formed and conducted, it is the most 
interesting and endeared. This union, by the 
will of God, is in itself indissoluble till death] 
makes a separation, excepting in the single case 
of unfaithfulness. But the marriage state, 
when entered into without a regard to God, to 
the rules of his word, aud a dependance upon 
his blessing, is seldom productive of an abiding 
union of hearts : and if this be wanting, the case 
of either party may be compared to that of a 
dislocated. limb, which is indeed still united to 
the body, but, not being in its proper place and 
connexion, is useless and painful itself, and the 
cause of pain and uneasiness to the whole body. 
Even the marria es of those who come togeth- 
er, and live together, in the fear of the Lord, 
are subject to heavy taxes : doubled in wedlock, 
and frequently multiplied in children, they have 
a larger share of cares, duties, and anxieties, 
than those who live single ; yet they are com- 
paratively happy. And I think, all things con- 
sidered, they have the most favoured lot. They 



ill 

love the Lord, they seek his presence and bles- 
sing, and they do not seek in vain. They 
love each other, they have one faith, one aim, 
one hope. Their mutual affection, intimacy, 
and perfect confidence, greatly enhance the val- 
ue and relish of the comforts in which they par- 
ticipate, and alleviate the weight of their bur- 
thens and trials. Love sweetens labour, and 
blunts the sting of sorrow. The vicissitudes 
of life give energy to prayer ; and repeated sup- 
ports and deliverances, in answer to prayer, af- 
ford new motives and causes for praijse and 
thanksgiving. 

But still they are jealous of themselves, lest 
those affectionate feelings, which greatly assist 
them in discharging their social and relative du- 
ties with attention and cheerfulness, should be- 
come excessive and idolatrous. And, as I have 
already observed, they have reason to be al- 
ways upon their guard, lest that which is law- 
i ful and right in itself, should, by being indulged 
in an immoderate degree, become ensnaring and 
hurtful. A true believer is, for the most part, 
rather shocked than seduced by temptations to 
gross evils : his heart recoils at the proposal. 
lie thinks, with Joseph, " How can 1 do this 



172 

** wickedness, and sin against<Jod ?" Penmui in 
licith — His chief danger lies in the abuse of law- 
ful things. The relation we stand in to God, 
as his intelligent creatures, from whom we de- 
rive all that we have or are, and on whom we 
depend for every breath we draw, makes it our 
indispensable duty to love him with all our 
heart, and mind, and soul, and strength. And 
as we have broken this law of our creation, he 
has in mercy been pleased to ciaim us for his 
own by a new and more endearing title. He 
has bought us with a price, and paid his life as 
a ransom for our souls. When a sinner is ena- 
bled to feel the force of this argument, he needs 
no more: The love of Christ constrains him. 
From that moment he is made willing to de- 
vote himself, arid his all, to him who died for 
him. But the flesh striveth against the Spir- 
it: he is still a poor creature. He cannot do 
the things that he would, nor as he would : 
otherwise every thought of his heart should be 
in absolute subjection to his Lord and Saviour. 

The Lord, who knows our frame, and where- 
of we are made, is unspeakably merciful to our 
infirmities, but he will not admit a rival. The 
believer knows and acknowledges, that what- 



173 

ever he possesses, , which is not held and impro- 
ved in subordination and subserviency to the 
will and glory of him from whom he received 
it, is so far an idol ; and the consciousness of his 
proneness to afford these intruders an undue 
share of hi s affections, often makes him confess 
to the Lord with Job, " Behold, I am vile," 
though his outward conduct in the sight e£ 
men may be unblameable and exemplary. 

Yet perhaps some persons may be overbur- 
dened with this apprehension. The Gospel 
is not designed to make us stoics : it allows lull 
room for those social feelings which are so ne- 
cessary and beneficial in our present state, though 
it teaches and enjoins their due regulations. It 
is the duty, no less than the privilege ©f hus«> 
bands, to love their wives, even as their own- 
selves, yea, even as Christ loved the church, 
who gave himself for it. These expressions 
are very strong ; they imply great love, tender- 
ness and sympathy. When the Lord said to 
Abraham, ■ Fake now thy son, thine only son, 
" Isaac, whom thou (ovest," he did not reprove 
him for loving his child • and Abnhrro's prompt 
obe-iience, when commanded to his 

beloved son, was a proof that Jhc r € 



1T4 

to Isaac was strong, it was not inordinate. And 
the apostle declares, " that if any man provide 
" not for those of his own house (his kindred, 
" his more distant relatives by blood or affinity), 
" he hath denied the faith, and is worse than 
" an infidel." He is to provide for them, if in 
his power, in preference to others, which plain- 
ly intimates that they are preferably entitled to 
his love. Friendship, likewise, between those 
who are joint partakers of grace, is very consist- 
ent with true religion. Such was the friend- 
ship between David and Jonathan. And 
though our Lord loved all his disciples, one of 
them is honored with a peculiar distinction, as 
the disciple whom Jesus loved. 

God formed us originally for himself, and en- 
dued the human mind with a capacity which 
he alone can fill. But when he dwells in the 
heart, there is still room for innumerable objects 
of complacence, in their proper subordinate or- 
der. When a woman marries, she may contin- 
ue to love her own parents and relatives as for- 
merly ; she may extend her affection and re- 
gard to the parents and friends of her husband : 
in a course of years the number of those whom 
she loves and values may be greatly increased, 



175 

without interfering with each other, or with 
what she owes to her husband ; but theTe is a 
different and special regard due to him, which 
if she should transfer to another person, she 
would be criminal. Thus we may love, and 
we ought to love, our husbands, wives, children, 
parents, and friends ; and if we consider them 
as the Lord's gifts — if we seek his blessing in 
them and upon them — if we hold them at life 
disposal — if we employ all our influence with 
theto to engage them to seek and love him su- 
premely— if, when they are removed from us, 
we are disposed to yMd a cheerful submission 
to his holy will— and if, when these things ajre 
brought into competition, we rather choose to 
venture displeasing our dearest friends, than to 
sin against the Lord — with these restrictions 
\i?e csmnot easily love them too much. 

But who can come up to this standard * I 
suppose no person can completely. But we 
may aim at it ; we may lament our deficiency ; 
we may pray for more grace ; and by grace we 
may approximate more and more to it. It is 
not necessary to distress ourselves with what 
may happen ; as, how should I behave, if the 
Lord were to take the desire of my eyes from 



me suddenly ? We are to live to-day, and to 
leave to-morrow with him. If we presume that 
we could support such a stroke, we should prob- 
ably find it too heavy for us. But this we 
7iiay say, The Lord is all sufficient, and he is 
faithful. He has promised strength according 
to the day. He permits me to call upon him 
in the time of trouble: and 1 trust, when the 
time of trouble shall come, he will enable me 
to pray for that help irom him, without which 
I know I must sink ; for in myself I am weaker 
than a bruised reed. In the mean time I en- 
deavor to cast all my care upon him who car- 
^th for me. 

For the rest, we are in the Lord's school — y 
the school of the cross. His daily providential 
dispensations are suited to wean our attachment 
from every thing here, and to convince us that 
this cannot be our rest— it is polluted. Our ro- 
ses grow on thorns, our honey wears a sting. 
Frequently our sharpest trials spring from our 
choicest comforts. Perhaps, while we are ad- 
miring our gourd, a worm is secretly preying 
upon its root. \s every bitter thing is sweet- 
ened to a believer, so there is some bitter thing 
a&ingled with the sweet. This is wisely and 



ITT 

mercifully ordered. It is necessary. And if 
things were not so bad with us, as in the lan- 
guage of sense they sometimes are, they would 
probably be soon xnuch worse. With such 
hearts as we have* and in seen a world as we 
live in, much discipline is needful to keep us 
from sleeping upon the enchanted ground. But 
the time is short. It will not be thus always. 
We hope soon to be out of the reach of sin and 
temptation. Happy hour, when sorrow and 
mourning, hitherto our inseparable companions, 
' shall flee away, to return no m®re ! when joy 
i and gladness shall come forth to meet us, and 
conduct us home ! Then those who have loved 
each other in the Lord upon earth, shall rejoice 
together before him, shall drink of the rivers of 
pleasure that are at his right hand, and their 
happiness shall be unspeakable, uninterrupted , 
without abatement, and without end. 



EXTRACT 
FROM A LETTER 

TO A FRIEND IN TROUBLE. 

BY REV. JOHN NEWTON. 

They who would always rejoice, must de- 
rive their joy from a source which is invariably 
the same ; in other words, from Jesus. On that 
name ! what a person, what an office, what a 
love, what a life, what a death, does it recal to 
our minds! Come, madam, let us leave our 
trubles to themselves for a while, and let us 
walk to Golgotha, and there take a view of his. 

We stop, as we are going, at Gethsemane, -for 
it is not a step out of the road. There he lies, 
bleeding though not wounded, it is by an invi- 
sible, an Almighty hand. Now I begin to see 
what sin has done. Now let me bring my 
sorrows, and compare, measure, and weigh 
them, against the sorrows of my Saviour ! 
Foolish attempt ! to weigh a mote against a 
mountain, against the universe ! Thus far we 
have attained already, and aim to say, 

Now let our pains be all forgot, 

Our hearts no more repine! 
Our suff'rings are not worth a thought, 

\Vhen ? Lord, compar'd with thine. 



179 

We are still more confirmed at our next sta* 
tion. Now we are at the foot of the cross. Be« 
hold the man ! attend to his groans ; contem- 
plate his wounds. Now let us sit down here a 
while and weep for our crosses, if we can. For 
our crosses ! Nay, rather let us weep for our 
sins, which brought the Son of God into such 
distress. Agreed. I feel that we, not He. de- 
served to be crucified, and to be utterly forsaken. 
But this is not all : His death not only shews 
our desert, but seals our pardon- For a fuller 
proof, let us take another station. Now we 
are at his tomb. But the stone is rolled away. 
He is not here. He is risen. The debt is paid, 
and surety discharged. Not here ! where then 
is He ? Look up ! Methinks the clouds part, 
and glory breaks through — Behold a throne I 
What a transition ! He who hung upon the 
cross, is seated upon the throne ! Hark ! He 
speaks ! May every word sink deep into your 
heart and mine ! He says, " I know your sor- 
" rows, yea I appoint them ; they are tokens of 
" my love ; It is thus I call you by the honor 
H of following me. See a place prepared for 
"you near to myself! Fear none of these 
" things : Be thou faithful unto death, and I 



180 

" will give thee a crown of life-" It is e- 
nough, Lord. Now then let us compute, let us 
calculate again. These scales are the balances 
of the sanctuary. Let us put in our trials and 
griefs on one side. What an alteration! I 
thought them lately very heavy : now I find 
them light, the scale hardly turns with them. 
But how shall we manage to put in the weight 
on the other side ? It is heavy indeed : an excee- 
ding eternal weight of glory. It is beyond my 
grasp and power. No matter. Comparison is 
needless. I see with the glance of an eye, there 
is no proportion. I am content. I am satisfied. 
I am ashamed. Have I been so long mourning, 
and is this all the cause ? Well, if the flesh will 
grieve, it shall grieve by itself. The Spirit, the 
Lord enabling me, shall rejoice, yea it does. 
From this moment I wipe away my tears, and 
forbid them to flow ; or, If I must weep, they 
shall be tears of gratitude, love and joy ! The 
bitter is sweet ; the medicine is food. But the 
cloud closes. I can no longer see what I lately 
saw. However, I fame seen it. I know it is 
there. He ever liveth full of compassion and care, 
to plead for me above, to manage for me below. 
He is mine, arid I am his : therefore all 'is* well. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




017 077287 8 4 



